


all aboard the ineffable plan

by doctormissy



Series: the eyes emoji squad [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Comedy, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), DC Comics Cameos, Drinking, F/F, F/M, Feels, Fix-It of Sorts, Footnotes, Gabriel and Beelzebub Met Before The Fall, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Genderfluid God, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, God Ships Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Group chat, Hell, Humor, Implied/Referenced Sex, Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Light Angst, Marriage Proposal, Other, POV Alternating, Phone Calls & Telephones, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Season/Series 04, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Texting, Weddings, Ze/Zir Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), anathema and newt fly to malibu, crowley wears makeup, every celestial being is pansexual pass it on, gabriel is a bitch but i love him, if you seek serious plot: go elsewhere, lucifer has hell's last brain cell, lucifer is a terrible father but he can learn, the 2019 heatwave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 01:30:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 119,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19861321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctormissy/pseuds/doctormissy
Summary: Despite what most people and people-shaped beings around the Universe might assume, Lucifer was thelastperson to want to bring Armageddon about.Or, in other words, Lucifer has no idea he has a son until said son summons him to the Tadfield Air Base, Crowley and Aziraphale have no idea that Lucifer doesn't actually want the world to end, and God is starting to be tired of their mutual pining.





	1. in which lucifer is confused™

**Author's Note:**

> welcome!!! I started this immediately after I saw good omens but only decided to post now, after giving up on writing the whole thing first. now, a few notes:
> 
> 1) this work runs parallel to the chatfic "sunshinegirl changed the group's name to the bikings", but it's stand-alone and you don't have to read that one—though if you do, you'll have the advantage of knowing what happens  
> 2) it has prose chapters as well as group chat chapters cos that's how we do things round here  
> 3) pov alternates between lucifer and crowley, or sometimes other characters from their respective shows
> 
> I hope you have as much fun reading this as I had writing it ;)

Something was wrong, and it was not a _good_ kind of wrong.

Lucifer had begun to feel the echoes of uneasiness in the celestial spheres about a week ago, but as one does, he didn’t pay it much attention. He tuned out anything that had Dad’s signature all over it almost by instinct. Stuff gave him headaches.

Now, on second thoughts, and little too late, he realised that for once it might have been a bad idea.

But then again, he’d always had a knack for those, hadn’t he?

Anyway. To sum up the situation: the ground was shaking. The air shimmered with trepidation. The earth popped open with violent cracks and bursts, terrified, and among it all he stood, utterly confused. Something willed him to be there, but that something wasn’t himself.

Bloody Father. He had a history of leaving him alone, so why stop now? On a Saturday, no less.

But, here he was, not finding anything better to do than blink and look around, perplexed. He was fairly certain that he was in LA the last time he checked, putting his devilish charms into good use with a very dull and uncooperative witness of a murder, who refused to state his whereabouts for the time of said murder. And now he was—where exactly was he?

That was a question for later. He was far more concerned by the 11-year-old[1] presently yelling these words at him: ‘You’re not my dad. Dads don’t wait until you’re eleven to say hello and then turn up to tell you off.’

That, at least, was true. Lucifer had no interest in having _offspring_. He’s known Chloe’s annoying, demanding, sticky spawn long enough to know he never, ever wanted one of his own.

And yet, as the beastling continued to scream bloody murder at him, the tips of his leathery wings shuddered with the thought of the beginning of the Apocalypse, which could only start off one way. With the Antichrist.

His progeny[2].

What an unpleasant discovery, that[3].

And then there was this: despite what most people and people-shaped beings around the universe might assume, he was the _last_ person to want to bring Armageddon about. He loved Earth as much as anyone, and Dad could shove his Great Plan _somewhere_.

It was a problem of aforementioned Leaving Him Alone: He’s never thought to ask, damn Him[4].

So, ‘Hold on a second, child.’ He held out an index finger and trod towards it. Well, him, he supposed. He narrowed his eyes. ‘If you just stop shouting and let me explain—’

There was an echo of _say it again, Adam_ around them. Lucifer thought he recognised the figures behind the child—Adam, how ironic!—but quickly dismissed the passing thought and focused on the more pressing matters at hand.

Adam continued yelling, ‘You’re not my dad. You never were!’

The ground shook again. Dust was everywhere. Great. His boots were no doubt ruined by now.

‘Yes, I know,’ he yelled back, more exasperated than anything. He took a step forward.

And then, before shoe hit tarmac, Lucifer was back in the interrogation room.

The good thing was, the Antichrist rejecting him, hopefully, ensured Earth’s continuous existence. The child would be fully human if the distant feeling of severed connections and rewritten timelines proved anything; no powers, poof, gone. A bunch of furious angels and demons alike was an inevitable consequence, but the Earth would remain in a lovely one piece.

He supposed he should thank him for that—at least in a hypothetical world where he would set foot on the same soil again, which was, safe to say, not this one.

The bad thing, or three rather:

  1. the bloke in the interrogation room has seen him dematerialise and rematerialise right in front of him,
  2. Lucifer would have one _hell_ of a field day after this,
  3. and what the _fuck_ happened anyway?



He could practically hear the violet-eyed bastard Gabriel’s voice in his head, ruffled and self-important as ever, ‘Once, _once_ we ask something of you, brother, offer you a place among us—the highest of all, you know? Starting the War. And then you go and fuck it up like _always_.’

As if this was any of Lucifer’s fault.

Either way, it was time to get back to Point One, as it was the most urgent one right now. The unfortunate witness to more than just a murder now, name of Marco something, stared at him, mouth agape and glassy eyes searching for answers he wouldn’t find.

Lucifer hated performing miracles. He _really_ hated performing miracles. It’s been _years_ since he’s last done one. They made him all weird inside. But desperate times, desperate measures, and all that. He snapped his fingers and erased a particular compromising memory from a particular brain, plus the brains of anyone else who might’ve seen.

He fixed his unblemished suit just to do _something_ with himself and cleared his throat. The man blinked up at him as if he’s just woken up from a sleepwalk to the roof.

‘If you’d excuse me,’ Lucifer muttered, his thoughts already miles ahead. He all but ran out of the room and told a befuddled Dan that the case was his[5].

He started his car and sped towards the Lux, the one place where he could find some peace and calm and, most importantly, quality alcohol and a change of clothes. Not unlike other demons, he had an affinity for exceeding speed limits and avoiding fines, so he made his vintage car give him its best and got there in five minutes.

Maze was at the bar, drinking away sorrows he didn’t give a toss about. He trod past her and a group of employees, straight to the lift, which had opened without a touch to the button.

He hardly paid that any mind.

He was in for a few phone calls. And some of that alcohol.

But first: clean suit. Lucifer _really_ didn’t understand how demons[6] could walk around in dirty coats and outdated trousers; he wasn’t himself until he was wearing an Armani and pristine leather boots.

He’d tried to tell them that, given them rewards for trying to make an effort, even. They didn’t care. They were demons.

Once that was settled, he poured himself two fingers of cognac and tossed them down. He went for scotch next. 120 years old. It was only proper when the world had almost ended, and without his insight whatsoever.

He took his phone and dialled.

His brother picked up after the fourth ring. Lucifer didn’t bother with the pleasantries.

‘Amenadiel, I have a very serious question and it would be for the sake of your own good if you answered me right now.’

On the other side of the line, Lucifer could hear the low hum of traffic and the sound of feet pacing from carpet to hardwood floor and back. Amenadiel was at Linda’s, then.

‘Good day to you too, brother,’ said his voice, coated in sarcasm.

Lucifer hardly had the patience for that. He sipped at his scotch. ‘Yes, good day indeed when the world didn’t suddenly end.’

‘Ah.’ Amenadiel paused. Cogwheels clicked together. ‘So I take it you’re calling because of _that_.’

‘Yes, and as much as I hate to bother you,’ Lucifer would bet that Amenadiel rolled his eyes right now, which was kind of the purpose here, ‘no one else will answer me, so _what the hell is going on_?’

‘Hell is going on. And Heaven. They were about to go to war before your _son_ ,’ the judgemental tone duly noted[7], ‘stopped it. Which, by the grace of Father, I’m really glad about, but that’s beside the point. The head offices[8] are furious. The Silver City is… restless. And Gabriel says there were two of ours, the Principality Aziraphale and the Fallen Crowley.’

Lucifer’s mind belatedly supplied the information about the entities whose faces he had seen behind Adam. His eyebrows knit together. ‘Crowley? What does the Serpent of Eden have to do with anything? [9]’

‘Everything, Luci, he has to do with everything. They blame him, and Aziraphale.’

‘Well, at least they don’t blame me. Everything’s fine, then. Bye, brother.’

‘Lucif—’

He rang off before Amenadiel could get any more words out. It looked like No One Important knew he was the unwilling participant here. That was good. That wouldn’t get him in Trouble. It would give him a bit of a breather, and he could finally get his date with Chloe.

But. _But_. Hell was getting restless too if the state of it before Lucifer’s departure was any indicator, and with Beelzebub as something of a Deputy King, things might take a rather nasty turn down there soon.

Nastier than usual, that is.

It didn’t bear thinking about.

Lucifer downed the rest of his scotch and took the lift back to the garage. He needed a longer ride to clear his mind and come up with a plan, and he needed to go as far and as fast as he could without resorting to travel by wing.

•

Things, thankfully, didn’t go tits up until Linda gave birth to her and Amenadiel’s baby angel roughly half a year later. Then his demons popped upstairs to wreak havoc and ask for a new King, clearly dissatisfied with the order of things under Lucifer’s rule in exile[10], regardless of the strict ban on possession implemented centuries ago. The audacity.

You know _this_ part of the story.

He saved his little nephew, sent the demons back all in his devilish might, begrudgingly said goodbye to the love of his eternal life, and followed them to his damned kingdom, because too much was too much. If they couldn’t get over Armageddon’t, well, their bad.

It was time to give them what for and show them who was _still_ the boss, never mind leaving a few key details out. That didn’t count as lying, thank you very much. It was serving a greater good—or _bad_ , in Hell’s case[11].

Can’t go saying around _that_ word down there. Lucifer wasn’t an idiot.

And if it helped some of his friends from the east coast with their own rogue demon problem[12], well, two birds with one stone, wasn’t it?

It was as easy as breathing, making the demons kneel once he was back. All they needed was to see his monumental wings and glowing carmine eyes.

All _he_ needed was to make it last.

After he comfortably seated himself on his throne, as comfortable as a chair made of stone could be, Lucifer made a mental note to call Crowley and personally ask him what had gone down that summer and how to fix things without delving into the whole destroying the world business. He must know, surely. He’d been there.

It _also_ went without saying that Lucifer didn’t have an inkling about Crowley’s failed punishment and a subsequent dishonourable discharge, precisely because of his absence Down Below, but as long as he had his phone number, all was fine. And, you know, luck of the Devil.

* * *

1 No, he had no idea how he knew that. Call it a hunch.[✿]

2 The result of one particularly rowdy week spent in London at the end of 2006, in the presidential suite of an unnamed five-star hotel, of which even the Devil himself had somewhat inconsistent memories. He certainly had no idea that he’d got some poor woman pregnant. Tuning out the celestial radio and all that.[✿]

3 That was an understatement of the millennium.[✿]

4 It might be worth mentioning that God was well aware of Her son’s unwillingness to participate in the Great Plan, as well as his ignorance where Pronouns were concerned. Though to give him credit, they hadn’t spoken in a billion years, and She had only started fancying the change about two million years ago. Everything else, including the Baby Swap and subsequent stopping of the Apocalypse, was a part of the Ineffable Plan, and She couldn’t go around telling people about that lest it cease to be Ineffable. Hence, Leaving Him Alone.[✿]

5 It, as a matter of fact, was. Lucifer tended not to care. He loved interrogating suspects, uncooperative or otherwise.[✿]

6 Except for Mazikeen of the Lilim and his brother Crowley, of course. They dressed okay.[✿]

7 No, he hadn’t known either, and yes, he was aware that this would earn him so much smugness from the brother at whom he thoroughly laughed for having a child with a human not so long ago.[✿]

8 _One of which is yours_ was mercifully left unsaid.[✿]

9 It went without saying that he had had no control over who had delivered the Antichrist. That was all Beelzebub, thinking ze had done Hell and zir Lord a great service and being immensely proud of zirself. Lucifer had still been on earth and blessedly oblivious. He’d only come back Down Below a month after the Youngs had taken their Adam home, and kicked the enormous stack of files off his desk instead of actually reading them. He _despised_ bureaucracy. It was Dagon’s job, anyway, why bring this to me?![✿]

10 See, even Beelzebub had been demoted. Ze was a Fallen all right, but other demons deemed zir incompetent in leading them after the Armageddon’t debacle, because they needed to blame _someone_ and could never imagine it in their stupid little brains that that _someone_ could have been the Big Boss himself, and started a series of riots, as demons were wont to. No Fallen felt like sitting on the throne themselves, though; hence the sauntering vaguely upwards and kidnapping the baby.[✿]

11 Or the Ineffable Plan, as it were.[✿]

12 Neron, the poor sod, had tried to take matters into his own hands and round up a bunch of demons who’d help him conquer Earth and take it for themselves anyway, War or no War. Heaven could suck it, he said, and possessed a tech company CEO in Washington D.C. The CEO was a friend of John Constantine’s. Go figure out the results. Idiotic demons. They were why Lucifer had gone on his long-term holiday to being with.[✿]


	2. in which crowley definitely isn't panicking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading and subscribing, i really didn't expect to get over 100 subscriptions in three days c: 
> 
> self promo time: listen to my way-too-long-but-in-a-good-way ineffable husbands [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5z7sT6LyPMpmx3AN0zdcgF)!

Crowley, as any self-respecting demon, did not get terrified.

That is, barring two memorable occasions:

  1. when Aziraphale told him that perhaps they could move in together now that their bosses were out of their feathers, it would make everything much easier, and we do deserve the bit of quiet, don’t you think, my dear?
  2. ‘Aziraphale, the Devil is calling me on the mobile.’



The former had been four months ago, just after New Year’s Day, year of the lord 2019. The latter, well—

‘I beg your pardon?’ The angel looked up from his book, glasses he didn’t actually need perched atop his nose. He looked at Crowley like one did when you asked them what they wanted to make for dinner today and they weren’t listening, or interested in dinner.

‘Are you deaf? I said _the Devil is calling me on my bloody phone_.’ He shoved the phone in front of his face and pointed at the caller ID, which had appeared despite never having been saved, for good measure. Aziraphale frowned at it. ‘What do I _do_?’

This was definitely a first. Has Downstairs finally learnt how to handle technology and modern forms of communication like he’s so desperately wanted them to since the 1980s? Because the radio in the cottage was currently on, and yet Adele didn’t find herself to be possessed and conveying a message from the Lord of Darkness.

Interesting. But Crowley still had no idea what to do.

Or why the Lord was calling, for that matter.

Has someone found out about their post-apocalyptic body swap stunt[1]? Were they after them? Have they discovered their cosy household, sitting peacefully at the shore? Have they noticed the Bentley, the trips to the city, the nights spent in the company of their surprisingly agreeable elderly neighbour, the cessation of hiding on their part? Were they going to punish them? Take him away? Take Aziraphale away? Oh hell, oh _bugger_ —

No. No, Crowley was _not_ panicking, and he did _not_ wish for the phone to be dunked in holy water. Not at all.

‘Well, I don’t know, perhaps it’s not, what do we know? He surely is persistent.’

He withdrew his arm and stared at the single ominous word. _Lucifer_. ‘Are you saying I should… answer?’

Aziraphale closed his book and exhaled, in thought. ‘There might be repercussions if you don’t.’

‘What if _this_ is it?’

Before either of them could decide the course of action, the phone stopped ringing. Crowley continued to glare at it with contempt it didn’t deserve. It merely did its job!

‘So that’s that, I suppose.’

He shoved it in his back pocket. His eyes, not hidden behind the wretched sunglasses[2], still needed something to glare at and focused on the spider plants occupying the windowsill. They didn’t grant him the satisfaction of quivering, the bastards. What they did somehow felt like a _scoff_ more than anything.

Right. His _plants_ , conspiring behind his back like this. Aziraphale’s coddling was making them _soft_. He should throw them outside and see how they enjoyed _that_. It might’ve been April, but it was most definitely cold and _very_ windy out there.

Aziraphale carried on reading his book, something old and boring no doubt, and Crowley plunked himself down into his armchair, right across the angel. He had been on his way there before the blasted thing rang, with the notion of a catnap.

But then. His pocket. The ringtone sounded anew.

_Persistent indeed_ , Crowley thought and slowly took the phone.

There was no avoiding this.

At least Aziraphale was ready to send Lucifer himself to the shiniest parts of Heaven if he so much as said the wrong word, if the thunderous gleam in his blue eyes and scrunched face were any indicators. He instantaneously felt better about his odds.

He pressed accept.

‘Yes?’ he croaked.

‘Crowley! Finally,’ said the voice of the Lord of Darkness, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, etc., etc., and it was just as smooth and tempting as he remembered from the old days. And also annoyed. Welp. ‘I hope I haven’t interrupted anything important, because this might take a while, darling.’

Um, what?

Aziraphale must’ve heard, with his celestial senses and all, because he raised a confounded eyebrow. Crowley shrugged, still mildly panicked.

‘No, I’ve got. Time. Lord.’

He remembered the existence of Time Lords about now, but that was irrelevant and he really needed to focus.

‘Save the _Lord_ , Crowley, this is just a chat between brothers[3]. I’ve heard about what you did,’ Lucifer said, curious, praiseful even.

‘What did I do, exactly?’ Crowley asked carefully.

‘Well stop the Apocalypse, of course!’

That was the answer he dreaded the most. Cold sweat ran down his spine. On the other end of the line, thunder roared.

‘Now, don’t tell anyone, I really don’t want to get in trouble over it, I’m barely holding Hell together as it is,’ Lucifer continued, and, wait, _what the fuck_? ‘But I should thank you and that angelic husband of yours for that. I do like the Earth in one piece.’

To say that was unexpected would be an understatement.

Crowley gulped. ‘Um, sure. Yeah, I’ll pass it on.’

He pointed at the phone at his ear and mouthed, _he’s thanking us._ Aziraphale’s eyes widened. Crowley shook his head, _no, I don’t know what’s going on either._

He completely ignored the comment about the husband. You know, compartmentalising.

‘Excellent.’ Now it sounded like there was a _smile_ in Lucifer’s voice. ‘So, Crowley, I was hoping you could answer some questions for me.’

‘Right. Questions.’

A memory of the trial flashed before his eyes. Angels. Hellfire. Aziraphale’s wine-induced recollection of what had befallen him in Hell.

‘All right, so, what exactly _had_ happened during the Apocalypse? Because I’ve heard some things from Amenadiel but, of course, he hadn’t actually been down there in, what was the village called again? Tadpole?’

‘Tadfield.’

‘Yes, that. And he’s mostly been complaining about going all the way up to Heaven for nothing and how he could’ve been with Linda the whole time instead. Anyway. _You_ were there, so you know what happened.’

Crowley didn’t understand half the things Lucifer had said. He was in touch with _Amenadiel_ , God’s Favourite, the ruthless warrior? Since when? And who was Linda?

But all he said was, ‘Yes, Lord.’

Because this was the Devil, and it was unwise to disobey a direct order. Crowley knew _that_ [4].

‘What did I say about the _Lord_?’ Lucifer sighed.

‘Not to?’ Crowley tried.

‘ _Not to_. Now, let’s begin with the _child_.’ He curled his tongue in aversion around the word. Interesting. ‘I’d like to know how the _hell_ did he summon me all the way from LA and why did no one try to kidnap _him_ to rule Hell, for that matter.’

But this time, _this time_ , it was too much. ‘Wait, what? Slow down.’

He mentally blessed himself for telling Satan to slow down. An alarmed look crossed Aziraphale’s face. Crowley was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to turn into a snake and curl up around the angel’s shoulders.

‘Right, I suppose you wouldn’t know about that, living in England. Happened just yesterday.’ A pause. Crowley’s heartbeat sped up with the mention of England.

It was probably irrational. He’s been stationed in London for centuries. But the dread of Lucifer _knowing_ couldn’t help but cross his mind again.

And then he remembered, belatedly, the comment about Aziraphale being his husband. Which, perfectly unreal, thank you very much, Crowley _never_ fantasised about any such thing. But that was beside the point. Lucifer _must’ve_ known[5].

Forget snakes, Crowley wanted to fly away from this moment.

‘Well, a dreadfully long story short, there was a Nephilim child and some demons tried to kidnap him to make him the new King of Hell because they were dissatisfied with how I led things down there, or rather _didn’t_ lead.’

Aziraphale cleared his throat. ‘I know about the Nephilim, actually. You know, rumours.’

‘Since when?’ Crowley grimaced. That was news. ‘Hang on, I’m just,’ he laid the mobile on the coffee table separating him from the sofa and angel, covered in books and empty cups with stained saucers and biscuit crumbs, ‘I’ll put this on speaker.’

As far as bad ideas went, this was certainly his worst. He was supposed to be on his way to Siberia or somewhere by now.

‘He’s there? Hello, Aziraphale! It’s been _so_ long,’ Lucifer addressed Aziraphale, perhaps a little too cheerfully.

Fear mixed with Confusion in Crowley’s brain.

‘Erm, hello?’ Aziraphale said, though his eyes glared murder at the mobile. It was a rather adorable paradox, that.

‘Can you explain things to him? I literally have eternity but I don’t want to spend it on the phone with that idiot, I’m sure you understand.’

Aziraphale’s features flushed with ire at the mention of the words _that_ and _idiot_ in association with Crowley. A lot less softly, he said, ‘A new Nephilim was born recently, I felt it in the tips of my wings. First time since, you know. Adam.’

The boy thanks to whom they were in this mess in the first place.

‘Yes, his name’s Charlie,’ Lucifer supplied. Another thunder. There were screeching voices of pissed-off demons, too, if Crowley wasn’t mistaken. It wasn’t a sound you forgot. ‘My nephew. The kidnapped one.’

Confusion was taking over. ‘And he was kidnapped because… the demons wanted him as King? Why not claim the Throne themselves?’

He certainly thought Beelzebub or Hastur would be up for the challenge. And a baby was still a baby, incapable of making decisions about food to eat and clothes to wear, let alone Hell’s administration. They would have to play nanny and raise him first.

_Hah_. Good thing he was out, or they might’ve wanted him to assume the task again. Delivering the Devilish Baby Vol. 2. Just without the delivering part.

‘Knowing them, it would take hundreds of years before they made a decision,’ Lucifer explained. ‘They thought it would be easier to just wait a decade and a half for the child to grow up. And those were Lesser Demons[6]. Dromos and the like. They wouldn’t listen to Amenadiel anymore, not after he’d expressly told everyone he would never go back again—’

‘I beg your pardon, Amenadiel _what_?’ asked Aziraphale, furrowing his brows but trying to be his usual polite self, even with the Devil. Sometimes Crowley thought he forgot he wasn’t actually English.

Lucifer sighed again, impatient. ‘He was keeping an eye on the throne after I left. But that’s not why we’re here, is it? I remember asking _you_ questions about Armageddon’t.’

Now, Crowley had exactly three thoughts.

First of all, _Armageddon’t? Really?_

Second of all, _Amenadiel ruled Hell, apparently? What? When?_

Third of all, _does this mean Lucifer was in the wind at some point?_

He expressed all of those questions in about six words, or sounds rather, in Enochian. Screams, birdsong, howling of the wind, cracking glass, and beautiful symphonies couldn’t begin to describe what the language sounded like to humans[7].

‘Somebody give me strength,’ Lucifer said after a minute’s silence. ‘You’re no help at all, do you know that? You have more questions than answers.’

Crowley shot up from the armchair, gritting his teeth. ‘Of bloody course I have questions. No one tellssssss me anything!’

Because he didn’t want them to. He’s left Hell behind, thank you very much. But it still cracked one’s eggs when one found out things weren’t as they thought them to be at satanbless all.

From Satan, no less.

Who was more of a nuisance than the embodiment of blazing inferno, it seemed. Huh.

‘And you think you’re the only one? That’s why I’m bloody _calling_.’

Aziraphale, for the better part of this part of the conversation, didn’t as much as breathe. He was, to put it simply, staring at the wall, his mind spinning at 120 miles per hour like the Bentley on countryside roads.

Crowley flung himself limply back into the armchair and rested his elbows on his knees. He hid his face in his hands. Rubbed at his eyes. He was getting tired, the absence of the desired nap _duly_ noted by his body.

‘Look, we actually _don’t_ have time to unpack all that[8], so. Let’s get this over with. Send me an email or something later.’

He could not _believe_ what he was suggesting. Blame the tiredness.

‘Or something, yes,’ Lucifer replied with resignation. ‘Adam, let’s get back to him.’

Crowley ran his hands through his hair, which he’s been letting to grow longer again for reasons that certainly had nothing to do with Aziraphale and his comment about liking it better longer. At all.

‘Adam didn’t _actually_ summon you; that was Beelzebub, as far as we think,’ he said. ‘Ze was pissed that ze got no War and pulled the last trick out of zir sleeve. Adam wanted you, well, gone.’

_Can’t blame him_ , Crowley thought, and hoped mind-reading didn’t work through the phone. He hasn’t had the opportunity to test the theory yet.

‘I can’t exactly blame him,’ said Lucifer.

Never mind.

Aziraphale blinked.

An unknown force within Crowley made him carry on. Probably the need to end this conversation and go to sleep[9]. He contemplated shifting his form again. ‘Adam renounced you and his powers and altered the bloody reality itself. Is that what you wanted to hear?’

‘I actually knew about that part,’ Lucifer pointed out, and that voice was beginning to be _more_ than irritating at this point. ‘Anything else?’

He groaned. ‘You could just ask the demons…’

‘We’re not exactly on casual conversation basis right now, in case you haven’t noticed.’

‘Haven’t noticed,’ he mocked—and who was he again, being sarcastic with the Lord? Bugger. He shouldn’t have gone this far.

This wasn’t just a bad idea. This was a monumentally, colossally bad idea.

He kicked the foot of the coffee table. The empty cups shook.

Lucifer, thankfully, carried on without smiting him for speaking before thinking. ‘I left Hell to live on earth eight years ago. They hate me for it. They hate everything else for the Armageddon’t, enough to the point of trying to take Earth for themselves anyway. I had to stop them so I came back here, but I still don’t know what happened. Does that about cover it?’

And yeah. Crowley had heard him right. He was seriously calling it _Armageddon’t_.

‘We didn’t want Earth to end,’ he said. ‘So it didn’t. The maths is easy when you have an Antichrist on your side.’

He purposefully wasn’t going to mention the Miracle, the Prayer he had thrown up towards God, hoping She would listen, just this once, because it would be unfortunate if She didn’t. In that moment, he hoped he’d got the whole Great/Ineffable plan gig right, and put all his remaining faith into it. And in that moment, it worked.

He wasn’t sure he understood himself. Or if Aziraphale did. They Didn’t Talk About It, just as they Didn’t Talk About many other things they should _most definitely_ Talk About.

Like the stray black cat who kept coming back, and whom Crowley has sort of adopted.

Or, you know. Feelings[10].

‘The Antichrist. Wasn’t planned[11], let me tell you that.’

At last, the angel hath spoken. He said, ‘Astonishing.’

What he _meant_ was something more along the lines of, _what in the name of the fucking fuck is all this, why is this happening, what the fuck, everything we ever thought we knew is different and everything we ever theorised about is right and God fucking knows what and I don’t even know, honestly, what the fuck, and how can you be so fucking calm, Crowley??!?_ Only perhaps with fewer expletives.

Not zero, just fewer.

Also, Crowley most certainly wasn’t calm. Internally, he was fuming like a pressure cooker full of beans, if the beans were Feelings boiling together. But still mostly Tired.

Lucifer, for the lack of a better word, snorted. ‘You don’t say. I’ve been _very_ careful over the centuries. Never knocked anyone up. And the next thing I know, this _spawn_ is calling me his father. A father he doesn’t want at that, like, make up your bloody mind! I can’t be both, can I?’

‘Actually—’ Aziraphale began, but Crowley shushed him with an insistent finger hanging in the air.

‘Just, no, angel,’ he shook his head. He threw his head back and rested it against the armchair.

It had been in the bookshop, before. Usually, it was Aziraphale who sat in it, and Crowley on the sofa, but the armchair had the advantage of two armrests sitting close enough to be lounged on rather inappropriately. Aziraphale always told him to sit straight. Crowley responded with one version or another of _why should I when I’m not straight myself_? Aziraphale rolled his eyes and let him be. If Crowley was feeling particularly demonish, he slithered around and sat with his head on the seat and legs up in the air.

‘Are you saying you _didn’t know he existed_?’ he asked Lucifer, braver with every passing second.

( _Bad_ bad idea.)

‘ _Yes_ , what do you think I’ve been talking about the whole time? I don’t _like_ children.’

‘I mean…’

Looking back to the years spent with Warlock, Crowley and Aziraphale both somewhat agreed. They locked eyes.

But then again, being godfathers wasn’t all that bad, the wrong child notwithstanding. He was someone who actually listened to what they said and didn’t argue overly much, unlike the other angels and demons respectively.

Didn’t even give him a stupid _wahoo_ , those thickheads.

Crowley decided to go for it and turned around in his chair. His feet dangled in the air now. Better. Aziraphale didn’t even say anything, this time, which made Crowley grin in victory for a split second before he remembered just who was still on the phone.

‘They’re annoying, always want something from you, money or candy or a ride in your vintage cabriolet,’ Lucifer complained.

Crowley heard two words: vintage cabriolet.

Aziraphale asked, ‘Do you have… experience?’ Because he was right, that was oddly specific.

_What_ exactly has Lucifer been up to in LA? The email would actually come in handy right now.

‘Yes, but that’s irrelevant—’ he abruptly cut the answer short.

The voices of Hell grew closer; enough for Crowley to make out a few words. One of them was definitely _apocalypse_. Or maybe it was _avocado lips_ , hard to tell.

‘Blasted demons, don’t know what they _want_ ,’ Lucifer said. ‘This conversation isn’t over.’

He rang off.

Aziraphale leant forward and Crowley just twisted his neck to the side; they both eyed the phone suspiciously.

Waited.

Nothing.

‘I’m pretty sure it’s over,’ Crowley noted, and a giant weight fell off his chest. The beans stopped threatening to explode.

‘Yes,’ said the angel. He didn’t pick his book up just as yet. In fact, he folded his spectacles and placed them on top of it. ‘I think we’re in dire need of a drink.’

‘Agreed.’

Lucifer knew a hundred per cent less than they’d thought, as it turned out, and Crowley was careful not to say anything about the two of them, but still. The prospect alone of him showing up on their doorstep could turn one’s blood to curdled milk. Better to thin it down with something.

Aziraphale wiped off invisible dust from his pale trousers and walked to the kitchen. He came back with a bottle of indiscernible origin and a cat in tow. She has first shown up about a month ago, but Crowley still hasn’t decided on a name.

She wouldn’t tell him if she already had one, either.

‘What’ve you got?’ he asked.

‘I’m not entirely sure, to be fair. It’s been in my cellar since the 1500s, at least,’ said Aziraphale, studying the illegible label. ‘Might or might not be mead.’

Yeah. It _was_ that kind of day, wasn’t it?

‘Experiment. Lovely.’

The cat hopped onto Crowley’s belly and only scratched his silken shirt a little bit. Aziraphale towered over him in this position, when he offered him a glass. Empty so far. He took it in his delicate fingers and listened to the sound of pouring liquid.

Very soothing. The drink was brownish, and he hoped it would taste better than it looked.

Then Aziraphale scratched the cat’s black head, right there where she sat on top of him. She purred. He was very close; Crowley could smell him. Or press a kiss on that hand. He didn’t.

‘Cheers,’ Aziraphale said and clunk his glass against his own.

‘Cheers, angel.’

He lifted the glass to his lips, cold, and tried to forget about the King’s last words.

* * *

1 God, by all accounts, knew. She was fairly amused about the whole thing. The prophecy had been Her work, after all. Look—She knew about everything that went down on Her little planet, including the aeon-long will-they-won’t-they relationship between one angel and demon, respectively. She was starting to be _real_ tired of the lack of action by the time the 1600s rolled around, too, so what if She took the liberty of pushing things forward an Ineffable bit? There was also a divine betting pool She’d rather not lose, but that’s a story for another time.[✿]

2 A habit he’s only picked up recently, on Aziraphale’s insistence, and only when it was the two of them alone. ‘There’s no need to hide them around me, my dear,’ he’d said. ‘You have such beautiful eyes.’ Crowley hadn’t believed him but laid the glasses aside nonetheless. There was no use arguing with him. He’d win anyway.[✿]

3 Crowley hated it when he called him his brother. It was true enough, in the sense of _all_ angels and fallen angels being brothers just as all humans were such in God’s eyes, but it reminded him of the Old Times, which he’d rather forget. It was _not_ true in the sense of being literal brothers with the Devil. They were from a different order altogether, thank you very much. His only actual siblings were Michael, Gabriel, and Uriel, the three Archangels he hated more than _anyone_. They always had to meddle, and besides, they were all _terribly_ dull. And they had tried to kill Aziraphale, so. No real siblings as far as Crowley was concerned. [✿]

4 Let’s put the number of times he went directly _against_ those orders aside for a moment.[✿]

5 He knew, or suspected, about the relationship. An Arrangement as old as theirs was hardly going to go unnoticed, but Lucifer liked knowing things no one else did should he need them as bargain chips at some point, and this was too interesting to share with anyone, anyway. And it wasn’t like he _disapproved_. Crowley used to be an Archangel and Aziraphale was a Principality, so no direct relations there—and Lucifer himself was very fond of earthly pleasures. He’s even been sleeping with Mazikeen for a while. And as for demons, seducing an angel, well, that was to be _encouraged_ , if anything! Other demons had no taste. Or logic. Or innovative thinking. But that was then. He didn’t know about the cottage. How could he? He’s been in LA since 2011 and didn’t keep tabs anymore.[✿]

6 Lesser Demons, otherwise known as Hellions, were hell-born, such as the many, many children of Lilith, including Mazikeen. They did not have wings or souls, unlike angels or Higher Demons, otherwise known as Fallen Angels. Only Higher Demons or even angels could sit on the Throne. Theoretically _and_ literally. There were protective sigils around that would give a Lesser Demon a serious case of upset stomach at best and vaporise them alive at worst.[✿]

7 Mainly because humans would fall into a coma after hearing it, in the best-case scenario. It was a highly Unpleasant Experience.[✿]

8 Crowley was a fan of John Mulaney’s, even though the credit for his shows belonged Upstairs. But memes, he had invented personally. Rickrolling was his absolute favourite—and yes, he was aware of the rather _obvious_ lyrics of the song. It’s why he’s chosen it, even though he’d never admit that to Aziraphale, his plants, or even himself, really.[✿]

9 It’s been four days, and that was a lot even for an occult being such as Crowley. What has he been doing, you ask? Mostly fretting about the garden, watching telly, and Contemplating Things.[✿]

10 They were both _perfectly_ aware that they loved each other. Have been for a couple of decades. It was just that it was Dangerous, before when they had Sides. Unthinkable, even. They were slowly adjusting to the lack thereof, casually touching more, wearing more comfortable attire around each other, discarding the sunglasses, spending all of their time together, sharing a bed, and, obviously, living together, but they were, again, pointedly Not Talking About It. God was close to losing that bet.[✿]

11 By Lucifer, or his mother. He was very much planned by God. Her demons, the Chattering Order, and the Youngs took care of everything else very nicely, too.[✿]


	3. in which everyone keeps getting distracted

**08/04/2019**

**thedevil** _created a group_

**thedevil** _added_ **Amenadiel** , **Aziraphale** , _and_ **Crowley** _to the group_

**thedevil:** this is how 98% of the humans I know[1] solve their issues so go on, yell at me 

**Crowley:** a group chat? really 

**Amenadiel:** Why? 

**thedevil:** they have questions, I have questions, it’s how things bloody work 

**Crowley:** I fell for having questions, in case u forgot 

**thedevil:** [congratulations.png]

 **Crowley:** … 

**Crowley:** so you paid attention when I explained memes 

**thedevil:** wasn’t there 

**thedevil:** thank ella 

**Aziraphale:** Who’s Ella? 

**thedevil:** ah here we go 

**thedevil:** I work with the lapd and punish some of the most devious sinners by locking them in prison for murders for a _very_ long time

 **thedevil:** ella is the csi. she loves _hugging_

**Amenadiel:** Yes, that’s _entirely so terrible_

**thedevil:** it is! 

**Aziraphale:** I like hugs, myself. 

**Crowley:** are u just ignoring the part about lapd??? 

**Crowley:** what the fuck???

 **Aziraphale:** Language, my dear! 

**Amenadiel:** “my dear”? 

**Crowley:** he calls everyone that 

**Aziraphale:** And _he_ has terrible punctuation. Or should I say none? 

**Crowley:** im a demon I have to have terrible puncutuation!!! 

**thedevil:** all demons do, truly 

**Amenadiel:** And one particular angel. 

**thedevil:** 🙄🖕 

**Crowley:** is everyone just ignoring me again????? 

**thedevil:** what more do you need to know 

**Crowley:** where to BEGIN 

**Crowley:** I mean, not to be rude, my lord 

**thedevil:** enough with that already 

**thedevil:** I never wanted to be anyone’s _lord_ but has someone asked what I wanted? no

 **thedevil:** so I left, simple as that 

**Amenadiel:** And where else than to the City of Angels. 

**thedevil:** I am a devil of my taste, brother 

**Aziraphale:** Do you mean to say that you’ve… rejected what you’ve been told and went to Earth, out of your own free will? 

**thedevil:** basically, yes 

**thedevil:** I would prefer things to _stay this way_ but no, demons will be demons and always cause trouble 

**Crowley:** I agree with ya there 

**Aziraphale:** Impossible. That is, we all _thought_

**Aziraphale:** What _is_ the truth anymore? Is this a part of the Almighty’s Plan as well? 

**thedevil:** yes, what IS the truth 

**thedevil:** the demons keep yammering about the great plan and the ineffable plan and some other celestial whatnot 

**thedevil:** do you have any idea what that’s about 

**thedevil:** not the plans ofc, I know about those 

**Aziraphale:** Ah, yes. I suppose that’s where this started. 

**Crowley:** ehhhh 

**Crowley:** soooooooo we argued about them not being the same thing 

**Crowley:** and the apocalypse, that was the great plan,right, but what if it went against the ineffable plan and earth wasn’t meant to be destroyed 

**Crowley:** and it turned out that everyone was confused as hell??? 

**Crowley:** we got them to think abt it and stand down and yeah, that’s where you came in actually 

**thedevil:** fascinating 

**thedevil:** I always thought- 

**thedevil:** _no_

**thedevil:** but I suppose it makes some sort of sense 

**Amenadiel:** I told you we had free will and control over our actions, Luci. That we could change things. That not everything we did was predetermined by God. 

**Aziraphale:** You… did? 

**Crowley:** ok what 

**Amenadiel:** I Fell, Crowley. Two years ago. But then I went on a path of self-discovery and started thinking about things, _really_ thinking about things, about God, the Plans, everything with the Flaming Sword and being the favourite child… It gave me a different perspective and then, when my dear friend died at Cain’s hand, I carried her back to Heaven and became myself again. A Throne[2]. Not for myself, but for her. I redeemed myself, and therefore I believe everyone can. Even Lucifer. Even you, _Raphael_. Don’t think I forgot. 

**Crowley:** hissssss 

**Crowley:** this is me, hissing at you for saying _that name_

**Crowley:** 1st of all, I never _ever_ want to go back to those _bastards_ up there, not after what they tried to do to aziraphale 

**Crowley:** 2nd, cain did what now? did he get tired of trying to kill himself? 

**Crowley:** 3rd, _you_ , the _righteous warrior_ , actual _god’s favourite_ , fell? 

**Aziraphale:** Fourth, what was that about my Flaming Sword? 

**thedevil:** that old thing was originally yours, wasn’t it

 **thedevil:** it was lost but then we found it and used it to cut a hole between dimensions to send my mother away. and I also killed uriel with it 

**Aziraphale:** Discorporated, actually. I happened to be in Heaven for a briefing and overheard her complaining about it, though I didn’t know that was _you_. 

**thedevil:** so I had nightmares about it for NOTHING, god bless it 

**Aziraphale:** Serves you right to have nightmares for trying to kill an Archangel with _my_ sword. 

**Crowley:** …were you snooping 

**Aziraphale:** No! I definitely wasn’t! 

**Aziraphale:** All right, maybe a little bit. 

**Aziraphale:** And you sent God away? Is that why no one has been answering? 

**thedevil:** not god, the goddess. you know, “don’t go playing with humans, children”. her 

**thedevil:** not dad/other mum/the almighty bugger, they have a habit of ignoring me just as well as anyone else 

**Aziraphale:** As the Almighty is wont to, yes. 

**Amenadiel:** As for Cain, he was trying to kill me but killed Charlotte instead. I’m afraid he wanted to hurt Lucifer by killing me, provoke him to do something he’d regret. Which he did, in the end. 

**thedevil:** I killed him

 **thedevil:** guess he finally got what he wanted 

**thedevil:** I, on the other hand, started turning into that… _monster_ again 

**Crowley:** I thought you were a monster 

**Amenadiel:** Now now, brother, he’s changed. _I’ve_ changed. 

**Crowley:** don’t fucking call me ur brother. everyone stop doing that, seriously 

**Crowley:** we’re NOT brothers 

**thedevil:** alright then, darling 

**Aziraphale:** And you two are close? 

**Amenadiel:** Always

 **thedevil:** believe it or not, yes 

**Aziraphale:** That’s what someone might call a plot twist, really! 

**Amenadiel:** Not really. We still love one another, right, Luci? 

**thedevil:** … 

**Amenadiel:** So how’s the bookshop, Zira? Still chasing away customers? 

**Aziraphale:** I don’t live there anymore, as a matter of fact. Gave it up. 

**Amenadiel:** Oh. Sorry to hear that 

**Aziraphale:** It was time, you know. I’ve been there for 218 years; people were starting to notice. 

**Crowley:** “zira” 

**Aziraphale:** He always called me that, back when we were little. 

**Crowley:** yah I know, I was there 

**Crowley:** painful memories,,, 

**Crowley:** can I call you zira? aziraphale’s too long 

**Aziraphale:** You can just call me _angel_ like you always do. I must say I, well. Rather like it. 

**Crowley:** yeah but. you know 

**Crowley:** when im talking about you 

**Amenadiel:** He _is_ an angel. What’s so special about that? 

**thedevil:** oh brother 

**thedevil:** it’s a human pet name, you know like _sweetheart_

**thedevil:** I hate those but to each his own I suppose 

**Aziraphale:** Ah, I’m fairly certain it is so because of _him_ calling me that for millennia, actually. 

**Crowley:** u…..knew? 

**Aziraphale:** Of course I knew, I read books! 

**Aziraphale:** Did you not want me to? 

**Crowley:** no um 

**Crowley:** well 

**thedevil:** I sense some frustration here 

**thedevil:** go on then, jump at it and get it over with, honestly smh 

**Crowley:** _jump at it_??? what?? no that’s not 

**Crowley:** we’renot 

**Aziraphale:** Wherever would you get that idea? 

**thedevil:** I used to read the earth files back in the day, y’know, I’m not _blind_

**thedevil:** love and lust is nothing to be ashamed of 😉 

**Crowley:** let’s not go there,

 **thedevil:** found my own love, haven’t i? 

**Aziraphale:** I beg your pardon? 

**Amenadiel:** Chloe hates that you’re gone, Lucifer, I hope you know that. She spent a whole day crying and then drinking with Linda and the girls. 

**thedevil:** just tell her I’m sorry again, alright 

**thedevil:** I’ll come back, but for that I need to SORT HELL THE HELL OUT 

**thedevil:** im looking at you two lovebirds 

**Crowley:** what have we done 

**thedevil:** didn’t tell me the whole story, for starters 

**Crowley:** u shouldn’t have put us in a bloody group chat then 

**thedevil:** you seemed distressed when I called 

**Crowley:** distressed?? _distressed_? the devil whom I spend centuries avoiding and trying not to piss off and generally keep out of my wings, especially after the _failed apocalypse_ , calls me on the PHONE and I’m supposed to be what, _calm and centred????_

**Aziraphale:** Crowley does have a point. 

**thedevil:** right, I’m sorry for not updating you then! 

**thedevil:** and like I said, I’m glad the apocalypse failed—because I’d just _love_ to see everyone I love dead and my favourite places with them 

**thedevil:** and after that, what? hell would expect me to fight for them and fight against the angels, my own brethren? and if we lost, because we _would_? would they kill me? would I have to go to space and live in exile on the planet vega or something? mourning the loss of chloe, the spawn, all of you? 

**thedevil:** to _deep space_ with the great plan, that’s what I think. why do you think I ran? why do you think I fell? I disagreed with the great blasted plan from the very beginning 

**thedevil:** so, thank you for taking care of that. ever so grateful. the only shame is that the demons don’t think so and I have to establish order again, but in order to do so, I need to _know things_ and pretend I knew them all along unless I want to be thrown in a hell loop or something, as much as I detest lying, show them all my devil face and _punish_ them

 **Amenadiel:** Just so you’d know, brother, the angels aren’t much better off. The last time I was Up There, things were in disarrange, and they _never_ are. Some of them even turned on Gabriel for failing to execute… you know, and if not for that, then for merely telling them there would be no War. 

**Aziraphale:** I had no idea. Deary me. 

**Crowley:** ur not on their side anymore, remember 

**thedevil:** execute whom? 

**Aziraphale:** Well… 

**thedevil:** you??? amenadiel said they blamed you, but 

**thedevil:** did they… down here? 

**Crowley:** try to dunk me in holy water? yea 

**Crowley:** but we got away and they’re leaving us alone now 

**Crowley:** oh, they despise us 

**Crowley:** which, I probably shouldn’t’ve told you, because now you 

**Crowley:** please don’t bring me down there, im begging, 

**thedevil:** no, of course not! do you need it officially signed and sealed, or

 **thedevil:** I’ll even give you anything you want as an unofficial-official thank you strictly between us, you name it. a promotion, a discharge from service, free tickets to my club’s best shows, a box of condoms, honestly 

**Crowley:** ok? 

**thedevil:** on one condition though 

**Crowley:** yeah…? 

**thedevil:** should I ever need something from you, you’ll help me 

**thedevil:** not as my employee, if you like, but as my not-brother, or as a favour, whichever you choose 

**thedevil:** because I have a feeling that I might have a need for someone they hate down here quite soon 

**Crowley:** yeahhh I guess I have to accept this 

**Crowley:** would be a suicide not to

 **thedevil:** now, you get it 

**Crowley:** ehhhhh 

**Crowley:** but you’ll leave me alone? not punish me? and you’ll leave _aziraphale_ alone?

 **thedevil:** of course! I’m thanking you! one last commendation, if you will 

**Crowley:** ok I hate this but 

**Crowley:** we have a deal 

**thedevil:** excellent 

**thedevil:** things… aren’t ideal down here and it feels good to have an insider

 **thedevil:** that’s all this is 

**Crowley:** ok I believe you, oddly enough 

**thedevil:** you always had the best innovative ideas 

**Crowley:** yeah ik im pretty awesome & the coolest demon in the area 

**thedevil:** … 

**thedevil:** now, tell me everything about armageddon’t and leave out NO detail 

**Crowley:** if u tell me about u in return. and who the heaven is chloe and how did you come to work for the bloody police cos I’ll sooner die than stop being a curious bastard 

**Crowley:** which WILL be the metaphorical death of me one day I swear 

**Crowley:** but 

**Crowley:** don’t stop me now, eh? 

**thedevil:** there’s the good ol’ serpent I remember

 **Crowley:** yeah and I think we might’ve scared the angels away 

**Crowley:** zira is kinda just staring outta the window 

**Crowley:** see? that’s what I meant by calling you that 

**thedevil:** so you _are_ together again, how lovely 

**Crowley:** as in in the same place, then yea

 **Crowley:** um

 **Crowley:** yeah I like to think so too.

* * *

1 It would probably be good to mention that in this particular case, Lucifer didn’t mean only His Regular Humans. He also knew John Constantine, thanks to whom he got to know a team of time travellers who called themselves Legends, and thanks to them, he met Oliver Queen, Bruce Wayne, and about a hundred other humans, aliens, and other human-shaped beings who introduced him to Solving Things Via Group Chat. He really came to like that, especially when Hell had such good Wi-Fi on the Throne (and nowhere else, mind; the rest of it only got that kind of Wi-Fi that told you you were connected but showed you the Offline Dinosaur at all times anyway, or, perhaps, loaded the page you needed an hour later on a good day). It was his only means of communication with Chloe Decker and anyone else he might wish to contact, such as the celestial beings he’s just stuck in a chat room against their will.

But this is a comics-exclusive fic, _Lucifer_ or otherwise, so let’s not inquire about that any further.[✿]

2 A Brief and Terribly Simplified Lesson on Angel Hierarchy: the angels are divided into three spheres. The first, Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones serve as, well, servants to God and guard the throne. Lucifer is a fallen Cherub, according to St Thomas Aquinas, and there is no source as to where Amenadiel could belong, but as he is “the bringer of justice” and such, it makes the most sense to place him among the Thrones. In the second sphere are Dominions, Virtues, and Powers. Governors of creation. Unimportant here. In the third sphere are Principalities, such as Aziraphale, who guide nations or groups of people (like, as someone on Tumblr pointed out, the gays), Archangels, and Angels. You know, the regular guys (or erm, sexless beings). Archangels with capital A are above everyone else, though, and those are “the three boring pricks” (Crowley’s words) and Raphael—Crowley, according to That One Theory I Somewhat Agree With. Lowercase a archangels include Azrael and Remiel, for example. Fallen angels have a similar sort of hierarchy here; Beelzebub and the other Princes came from the first sphere, etc.[✿]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, aziraphale does have a mobile phone, because crowley insisted he get one, and (i'm taking inspiration from irisbleufic's crown of thorns 'verse here because it _fits_ ) it's an old blackberry. you know, with buttons, because he doesn't really get smartphones but he's excellent with older tech (book canon people!!! book canon!!!) so he makes that work. crowley hates it, but better than nothing eh?


	4. in which paperwork is hell's worst nightmare

If you asked Lucifer Morningstar, Fallen Cherub and reluctant Lord of Hell, to name one thing he loved above all else, he wouldn’t give you a definite answer. It wasn’t because he was a Fallen Angel and couldn’t feel love. That was absolute _rubbish_. No, he was a Devil of his taste and loved a dear amount of things—or feelings, people—he couldn’t quite align in order, no matter how many times he’d try.

Some of his most cherished things were sex, food, alcohol, music, solving crimes with Chloe Decker, and Chloe Decker.

He _could_ give you one specific answer if you allowed him to combine those things; then, a dinner date with his partner following a successful case, ending in a lovely duet on the piano and a round or two _under_ the piano would surely come out on top.

But that was cheating.

Now, you might as well ask him to tell you what he hated more than anything else in the entire universe. In this case, it wouldn’t even take him that long to say it was _paperwork_ [1].

Namely, Hell’s paperwork: covered in suspicious slime, lost forever, making no sense, illegible, excruciatingly boring, and often all of the above. In triplicate.

He deeply sympathised with Aziraphale on this matter, because he would rather perform a plethora of miracles, big or otherwise, than be inconveniently discorporated and have to deal with paperwork. And for a second there, he couldn’t exactly blame the demons for rioting when faced with another eternity of such instead of fighting in a glorious war.

But alas, miracles couldn’t get him out of it _this time_. Two days of being back, and he was _overwhelmed_ with lists and forms and files that all claimed to be urgent at its uttermost, and sometimes even snapped teeth at him.

Don’t ask.

Those, at least, weren’t so boring, because they usually involved hellhounds and such creatures, and he’d always had a soft spot for them[2].

But the rest, well. He knew why he’d left with the notion of staying on Earth _permanently_. Lovely planet. Had almost no paperwork, and if it did, he just stuck it to Maze. The only kind he tolerated were the police files, because those had interesting information about perps and murders. And lots of pictures.

Hell was stuck in the era of malfunctioning, greyscale-only printers.

Which reminded him, he really needed to find a demon reliable enough to help him innovate and redecorate. Maybe he could ask Crowley. But—no, he wasn’t going to waste his favour on this. Though, he _could_ ask him for tips on demons who at least knew what a laptop was, right? Yes, definitely. That could work.

But back to the dreadfully dull paperwork.

He had been at it for _hours_ and still got nowhere near clearing the two-metre-high pile on his old desk before he gave up with a sigh and took the stuff he had dutifully signed to Dagon, the Lord of Files, with the idea of telling her that _she_ was the Lord of Files, _not_ him, so she might as well take care of everything herself.

He hadn’t assigned her the position for nothing after the Fall. Honestly.

Lucifer didn’t bother knocking and kicked the door to her office open.

Mostly because he didn’t want to dirty his hands by touching it. Literally, it was covered with brown goo he’d rather not become too acquainted with.

‘Brought you something,’ he said, balancing the haphazard stack in his hands. Then he dropped it on her, likewise overflowing, desk. A different pile couldn’t stand the stress and slid onto the floor, knocking more files down like dominoes.

The next thing he knew, Dagon was holding him hostage by the wall of her office, a razor-sharp edge of her idiosyncratic binder cutting into his throat, teeth barren and blisters threatening to burst on contact.

He’d rather avoid _that_.

And he didn’t even _do_ anything[3], for Elvis’ sake!

‘You!’ she snarled. ‘How dare you step into m—’

Okay, now, that was too much. Features shifted, and the Devil Face came into play, crimson eyes bleeding light and terror and irritation. ‘How dare _you_ question me! I am your Lord, and you will _kneel_ before me.’

He hated to do this, but it was necessary.

When her grip didn’t let up, he reached into the metaphysical plane beyond this dimension and summoned his wings, magnificent and sharper than any blade and as bright as Heaven itself. He hated them, _oh_ he hated them, but Down Here, they were the most powerful weapon of all.

They never let Hell twist and reshape and diminish their Heavenly grace, those stubborn bastards.

Dagon blinked, momentarily blinded, and sunk to her knees. The binder clattered onto the floor and released a wave of stained paper sheets.

Lucifer fixed his cufflinks and stretched his wings, reverting to his accustomed, dashingly handsome face.

‘Now, that’s much better,’ he said and twisted his lips in a mocking smile. ‘Rise, Dagon.’

She did, and looked into his no longer glowing eyes. The disdain was palpable in her every move. ‘What do you want,’ she spat.

‘Watch that tone, or you might just find yourself scrubbing the walls with Beelzebub,’ said Lucifer, backing away from the wall. That was one of the less enjoyable cases of being pinned against one, most definitely. He folded his wings. ‘Oh yes, I know what you lot did. _Nothing_ escapes my attention.’

Well. It didn’t _now_ that he was here, anyway. The Apocalypse was a sad omission he wasn’t going to bring up in front of anyone with so much of a rebellious seed rooting inside them.

Lucifer crossed the office and sat in Dagon’s chair. It squeaked loudly; a strip light flickered overhead and burned out with a hiss. He snapped his fingers and commanded it to shine brighter than any light in ever did during Hell’s entire existence.

Dagon squinted at him. ‘What do you want,’ she repeated.

‘Why, files, of course,’ he told her with a tone he usually reserved for twelve-year-olds, ‘but the question you should be asking is what I _don’t_ want.’ He threw his legs up onto the desk, which threatened to disintegrate under the layer of folders. ‘No more of them on my desk unless I specifically ask for them, and send someone to clear everything up, there’s a dear. Eight years it’s been gathering dust and Father knows what else.’

One would think the demons would give up on sending paperwork his way after a year or two, but no, the stacks were accumulating and slowly reaching the ceiling, as he had been so unpleasantly surprised to find out earlier that day. Two metres? That was just the Aforementioned Important Pile. The _shortest one_.

Not to mention the mountains of _Infernal Times_ , which he would swear he had unsubscribed from those eight years ago, but guess what? The form had been _lost_. 

It wasn’t even surprising at this point.

Dagon gave him a curt, astringent nod. ‘Yes, Lord.’

‘Excellent,’ he smiled a saccharine smile and let his legs drop onto the floor, making sure he sent half the files scattering onto the floor. Perhaps he should grab a few disobedient demons and personally mind that they put everything in order, alphabetically. Everywhere.

Oh, as far as punishments went, this one was his best yet. He was already feeling better.

Never mind it was virtually the demons’ job. If they were too lazy and/or rebellious to do it after the Apocawhoops, despite the fact it’s been eight months and they should’ve got over it already in his opinion, a nice push would surely get them back on track and help make Hell great again.

And then, hopefully, he could leave again.

He got up and made his way to the door, which wasn’t altogether that easy, what with the scattered folders everywhere.

‘Now, one last thing. Neron’s file. I actually need that one, so find it for me.’ Dagon frowned at him. Lucifer added, ‘ _Please_.’

Right now, the Prince of Lies was Traitor No. 1 for trying to restart the Apocalypse and being one of those who had been after the Throne, which, no thank you. Lucifer would be more than happy to leave the blasted chair to another fallen angel[4], but _definitely_ not him. Too violent. Unpredictable. And, what was worse, still believing in the Great Plan and the destruction of Earth.

Not that Lucifer himself was entirely clear on the Divine Plan front, but. Beside the point.

He was about to make an example of Neron. He had to.

If the Higher Demons wanted a real execution[5], they would get one, and if they didn’t like it, then they could jump into the bath themselves, one by one until they _listened_ and made the Lower Demons listen to _them_. You had to be tough, in Hell. Even if you disagreed.

Lucifer was, however, only vaguely aware of the war he’d been meaning to start on His Planet, so he hoped at least someone has been working well and the file was up to date.

After a few moments of rummaging around, Dagon handed him one of those nasty binders and one last murderous look, but she bowed her head as she said, ‘Here you are; enjoy the light reading.’

He grasped it under his arm and left. His wings carried him high up on the Throne[6], because he wasn’t going to step inside his office for at least a few hours now. It better be clear of any piece of paper when he does.

He tucked the binder between his side and a rather rough armrest and took his phone.

•

**Messenger**  
**the detective**  
**9 Apr at 6:16 pm**

hello, chloe

I’m sorry I didn’t text sooner,  
but there were some… issues  
that needed handling

I miss you terribly

how have you been? what time  
is it up there? [7]

Lucifer, OMG

I miss you too, so much

Trixie does too

it’s. It’s weird here without you,  
at the precinct, at home

no dirty jokes and laughing at  
crime scenes and jabs at Dan and  
just. I wish you were here

I know, and I’m sorry

you know I had to do this

the prophecy…

yeah, I do

and it’s, uh. it’s 6, I’ve just  
come back from work, a tough  
case. could really use your  
insight

tell me all about it, then

are you sure?

of course

ok, yeah, maybe later, I have  
to make dinner now

I don’t even know what to have,  
you always had the best ideas  
for the most delicious things and

Trixie asked for your grilled  
cheese this morning and my  
heart broke a little when I had  
to tell her that you weren’t  
gonna come home for a while

I wish I could come home,  
detective

I mean Chloe

but it will take some time to  
restore order and find a  
solution

I understand, I know you had to  
do what you had to do

I DO, Lucifer

but I

I love you

and I miss you, but I said that  
already…

pasta is always a good idea

don’t you think I don’t know  
you’re avoiding the subject

what do you have, some veg?  
chicken? you could make  
tomato sauce

the spawn loves it

yeah I know

I’ll check

I didn’t even do the shopping  
I’m freaking useless here

Chloe. listen

this isn’t over. we’re not over.  
I don’t fully understand human  
feelings, or my feelings, Linda  
would know, but I know that I  
do love you too and that I’ll do  
anything to get you back

I know, but knowing doesn’t  
make this any less real

even the stupid prophecy said  
all the bollocks about my first  
love, and that’s YOU, not eve

so what’s one more heartbreak,  
eh? we spent months apart  
before. have some wine, watch  
telly, make dinner for the child,  
go party, enjoy life! do it lucifer  
style ;)

and it’s not like we can’t do  
facetime and all that

skype sex, eh? have you ever  
tried it?

LUCIFER

made you laugh, haven’t i

yeah 😁

see? it’s not so bad

but honestly, have you

um, no

first time for everything ;)

I’m not. I’m not doing that right  
now

or thinking about it

DINNER. I have to make  
dinner. or rather, order some  
takeaway

takeaway? my my. you really  
do need me

don’t joke about it

but you’re laughing, I know  
you are

how?? is that some of that  
devil mojo? is there something  
you’re not telling me?

no

but I know you, Chloe

you’re my queen

**9 Apr at 6:40 pm**

was that too much? I’m sorry

no, it’s just. calling me your  
queen, you mean queen of hell  
and I guess I’m still not  
exactly used to that. you know

and the idea of being down there,  
of you being down there right now

I can’t stomach it

so don’t think about it, ok

tell yourself I went on a  
prolonged business trip and  
have to get my managers to  
listen to what I say and stop  
fucking up the firm, because  
really, that’s just another way  
to put it

that won’t work, Lucifer, I’ll still  
know

but it IS kinda funny

yeah I think I’m losing my mind  
here

and Trixie can’t decide what she  
wants on pizza and that just feels  
so out of place here, you know?

but I know I have to get over it

I do

but it doesn’t make it better

at least you still have all your  
friends, I have only the MORONS  
here

which actually makes it worse,  
probably shouldn’t have said that

sorry

**9 Apr at 7:09 pm**

so we got cheese and ham pizza

and Linda with the family will  
be coming over

I can’t wait to see little Charlie

when I imagine what the demons  
wanted to do to him, what they  
could’ve done, holy shit

I hope you give them a proper  
telling to and some punches  
and the worst work ever for that,  
or whatever is it you do in hell

oh you can be sure about that

first order of business tomorrow

speaking of, I should probably  
start on neron’s file…

let me guess, boring as hell

🤣

precisely

tell me about the case later, ok?

yeah

I’ll definitely text you like, all  
the time

ah you’re my saviour <3

heart emoji? wow

bye, Lucifer

<3 <3 <3

did you ever think that those  
look like butts

or ice creams

but mostly butts

no???? OMG Lucifer do you  
have to ruin everything like this

please don’t mention my father

sorry 😂

so yeah I’m signing off, 🍕 to eat

bye

bye, detective

•

**😈  
9 Apr at 8:22 pm**

**You**  
I hope you’re taking good care  
of her

because if you aren’t, I’ll make  
special rooms in hell for all of  
you

 **Amenadiel  
**You’re joking.

 **You  
**haha, of course I am

or am i?

 **Ella  
**lucifer!!!!!! dude!!!!!

how r u?

probably shitty, sorry

anyway

theres this case, a real nasty, ud  
love it

yeah

we miss u

 **You  
**so I’ve heard

and I’m mostly bored and  
annoyed, tbh

 **Chloe  
**you know I can read this, right?

but yeah, they’re taking care of  
us, don’t worry

[ _image_ ]

 **You  
**aww

a reverse oreo sandwich 😁

 **Maze  
**what

 **You**  
you know, white brown black  
brown white

your positions on the sofa

never mind

bet you are very comfortable  
among all the women, brother

 **Amenadiel**  
It’s not exactly comfortable to be  
squished between four people  
holding a baby, Luci

 **Maze**  
the baby can’t sleep and keeps  
screaming

are u sure he’s not half demon

 **Linda  
**Yes

 **You  
**very

 **Eve  
**i wish i was theeeere

why didn’t u take me w u,  
maze?????

 **Maze**  
u were having a pretty great  
time at the club

all the MOVES

;)

 **Eve**  
all the more i want to be w u  
baby

 **Maze  
**ok I can ditch this party

 **You  
**you will NOT

you must take care of chloe

 **Chloe  
**it’s fine, Lucifer

but maybe take it somewhere  
private, you two

 **Eve  
**:(((

 **Ella  
**but i mean

u CAN carry on

 **You  
**a nice one, ella

the devil approves

but the devil also has some  
duties to perform that sadly do  
NOT involve any fun and  
intimate activities, so I must  
be going

 **Linda  
**But you’ll text us, right?

 **Ella**  
well in any case ill text u case  
details and random stuff and.

u know

virtual hugs (つ≧▽≦)つ

 **Eve  
**bye lucifer!!!

give ‘em hell 😉😈

 **You**  
what else would I give them in  
hell, hmm?

>:)

* * *

1 Although, lying was rather high up on the list too, right next to lazy and/or incompetent people who pressured him to do all the work himself, religious humans who worshipped his Father/Mother/the Almighty Bugger to the point of fanaticism, people who got away with anything and blamed him for their sins, and TV series that suddenly ended with a cliffhanger and no hopes for revival.[✿]

2 But he was still extremely glad he hadn’t turned into a creature himself after the Fall, like Crowley or Ligur, for example. He really liked his corporation, before and after, and would hate to have to create a new body for himself, or, in the worse case, pick up a person and made them carry him around on their head. Even more than paperwork. It was just _undignified._

Footnote of a footnote: in case you missed it, in an ask on his Tumblr, Neil literally said the “head animals” were the demons, rather than the “people”. Some of them can’t shapeshift like Crowley, so they have to make do with a random body. I guess you could call it _possession_?[✿]

3 Some might disagree. Like Dagon, for example. Well, not _disagree_ , exactly; not doing anything was precisely what Hell deemed him guilty of.[✿]

4 He has, in fact, been thinking about possible candidates who a) had leadership potential, b) weren’t too deranged, c) would agree to leave Earth alone, d) could actually do their work, e) wouldn’t scoff at Heaven and angels too much, and f) could accept some pointers on modernisation, but unfortunately, there was _no one_ who met all the requirements and wasn’t Crowley. Oh well. He would have to think of another strategy, it seemed.[✿]

5 Oh yes, Crowley had told him about it. It was clear that he didn’t want to, but a deal was a deal, and so he gave Lucifer his and Aziraphale’s secret. Lucifer was _delighted_ and told him he’d give him a medal for coming up with such a brilliant plan on the sole base of a prophecy. He also got more information on Beelzebub and the other Fallen out of it, so honestly, Crowley quickly moved higher on the list of his favourite demons—which was two items long— _don’t tell Mazikeen_ —he shouldn’t be afraid of him, bless it! Then he told him about _his_ prophecy in return. You know, the one with his first love and Hell on Earth.[✿]

6 Which he, a _Game of Thrones_ fan, jokingly called the Iron Throne. It was actually made of stone. He didn’t care.[✿]

7 Lucifer couldn’t see the time and date on his phone, as he was in a dimension out of time, but 9 April was indeed the date on Chloe’s side in Los Angeles. Time did _not_ run differently in Hell—unless you, as its inhabitant, were convinced it did so. Lucifer should know better, but he was still, at times, certain a minute took about two actual minutes and, at times, it did for him. It was just like Crowley with cassette players or, more recently, CD players and iPhone holders in cars that shouldn’t have them.[✿]


	5. in which feelings and gardening are involved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is one of those non-crossover chapters. perhaps a little pointless, but it has some ineffable husbands softness because i felt like there has been too much focus on lucifer and not nearly enough of them!

Crowley carefully backed into the driveway and killed the engine with a click of his fingers. The door to the cottage opened before his snakeskin boot hit the gravel.

Aziraphale didn’t greet him with “Hello, my dear!”, or “How was your trip?” or even “Did you tempt the nice girl at the café to give up her job again and switch all the lights in Brighton to red for ten minutes? Well done, Crowley!”

He was proud of that one.

Not because it was in his job description, but because frankly, the girl could do better, and the people deserved to be stuck in traffic after one particularly annoying bloke almost _hit him_. And you know, causing minor inconveniences was still vastly entertaining for a demon such as him[1].

What Aziraphale said, with a somewhat constipated, unimpressed expression, was, ‘What in the Heavens is _that_ , Crowley?’

Ah, right. The plants on backseats. They were sticking out of the windows. You know, for a better view.

Crowley slithered out of the Bentley and put on a smile that tried at slyness and failed. ‘Blackcurrants and blackberries for the garden; I thought it could do with some fruits. Love those. Good aesthetic. And I also got a whitecurrant bush because you might argue about the merits of eating different varieties or some other human _rubbish_ , knowing you[2].’

Aziraphale might also argue that there was more behind the choice, such as a metaphor of Heaven and Hell, of the two of them, but Crowley would deny those allegations[3], thank you very much.

He slammed the car’s front door shut and opened the back one, extracting a blackberry bush from the open window. He carefully lifted the plant, and then a blackcurrant. ‘Anyway. I thought I told you I was popping into the garden centre.’

He turned to face Aziraphale, but he couldn’t see much over the leaves.

His sunglasses were on, this time. He never left the house without them, lest he scare some poor humans out of their wits. The English countryside was no Los Angeles, where demons tended bars and the Devil played the piano between terrifying suspects to confess with his signature Red Eye Stare.

The angel said, somewhat judgemental, ‘No, I’m afraid not.’

Despite the six years he had spent with the Dowlings as a gardener, he wasn’t a fan[4]. If it were up to him, he would probably allow the back garden to overgrow with weeds and wild grass, and leave all the Gala apples[5] to rot on the ground.

Crowley would rather do—well, he didn’t know what he’d do, but he’d rather do anything unpleasant you could think of than let Aziraphale attend to the plants and trees without his supervision.

‘Ah. Must’ve been in my head.’ He sauntered through the gate and shouted, ‘Come on, angel, help me carry these to the back and plant them in the ground. I’ve already got the perfect spot!’

‘Plant them? I don’t like—’

Crowley came to a halt and spun around dramatically. He smirked. ‘Getting your hands dirty, is that so?’

‘Well, yes.’

Aziraphale looked utterly defeated, but one well-meaning pout from Crowley, and he was on his way to the car to take the remaining currant plants.

‘You could just miracle them into the ground,’ he grumbled, more to himself, but Crowley heard anyway.

He lifted a playful eyebrow. ‘What was that, angel?’

‘I said you could just miracle them into the ground,’ said Aziraphale, defiant. He fussed about the pots as though he didn’t know what to do with them and perhaps even held them accountable for the nuisances of his new everyday life.

Nevertheless, he followed Crowley into the garden, the three blasted plants in hand.

Crowley was well pleased with what he had done with the place. The interior was Aziraphale’s kingdom, barring the houseplants, but the garden! That was his masterpiece. A patch behind the cottage was already abloom with crocuses, hellebores, and pansies of many radiant colours, and a bed a little further off sported radishes, carrots, and head lettuce. Crowley had plans for some tomatoes and courgettes, too, but it was still early for those. He had cropped the hedges into the straightest lines you would find in the entire neighbourhood. Under his vague threats, the lawn not-so-happily stayed green and soft, and didn’t dare to grow out or, God forbid, develop an infestation of clovers and other pests. In the front, right by the three steps leading to the door, peonies and hydrangeas were ready to burst into rich blooms come June. And there also was an oleander, pink and poisonous and just the kind of decorative tree Crowley was most fond of[6].

No Brothers Snail or Sisters Slug dared to touch a leaf; Crowley’s words of menace could drive a cougar away, if cougars lived in England and dared to step onto his garden.

The only thing so far missing were the fruits, out of which Aziraphale could make tarts and jams he so loved eating his scones with, and perhaps even blackcurrant wine in a few years, Crowley liked to think. The angel loved homemade things—which was why Crowley couldn’t exactly understand his fussiness.

But that was Aziraphale for you: eternally Fretful with a dash of Arseholishness, a pinch of Unpredictability, three spoons of Aptitude for Trying Any Edible Thing That Landed Under His Nose, and a whole boulder of Love, Kindness, and True Bookworm Energy to his soul. It was easy enough to forget about the first three if you didn’t know him for long enough, and to _appreciate_ them if you knew him for an aeon and were a demon named Crowley.

Appreciate, _love_. Same thing, really.

Why did he _say those things_ , though? _Miracle_ them in the ground! Over Crowley’s discorporated body.

‘I can’t _miracle them into the ground_ , Aziraphale,’ he said. A deep crease formed itself on his brow. His Snake Tattoo[7] was frustrated. ‘Plants need the touch of the hand; they need to remember it so they would know when they did wrong the next time it touches them and tells them off. They need to _fear it_.’

‘Nonsense, dear boy. You should be showing them _love_ , not fear, I always tell you.’

_Always_ , in this case, could be translated to _from The Night after the Apocalypse onwards_. That was when he first heard Crowley yell at his houseplants, disapproved on principle, and thwarted his efforts by being bloody nice to them. They were starting to lose all the discipline, honestly!

‘I already let you corrupt the spider plants. You’ll stay out of my garden and let me do it _properly_ ,’ he emphasised, and put the pots down. He sighed. ‘Just help me out here, yeah? Good.’

Aziraphale lowered the three currant bushes next to them and miracled away every single speck of dirt that had caught on his coat while locking eyes with Crowley’s sunglasses. ‘Which is it, then, stay out or help you?’

‘Oh, for—’ He made a Sound. So this was how it was going to go, eh? ‘Get on your knees, angel.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ A series of micro-expressions played out on his face and decided on a slight flush.

Crowley’s brain made a somersault because it realised the implications of Aziraphale’s question and _his_ imperative, and he felt like slapping himself, or going for it, or both, and it was very Confusing.

He dropped to the ground, still damp and chilly from yesterday’s light rain, himself. He should have probably changed his tight jeans into something more comfortable, he realised too late, but it would be a waste of a miracle right now. He let it go.

He said, ‘Knees. How else do you want to plant these?’

‘Ah.’ Aziraphale’s usual beige trousers seemed to protest. ‘But there will be stains…’

No, it did _not_ get better.

‘I’ll miracle them away later if it makes you shut up. Knees.’ He pointed at the patch of lawn next to him. From thin air, he summoned a trowel. A strand of hair fell into his face, so he put it behind his ear, but it didn’t hold. He used the sunglasses as a headband to hold the hair in place and then finally got to digging out soil for the new fruit bushes.

Aziraphale slowly lowered himself next to him, complaining under his breath.

Not looking at him, Crowley said, ‘Take the plants out of the pots.’

Aziraphale reached for the nearest one, a blackcurrant, and cupped his hands around the trunk. He didn’t pull; he sunk onto his heels and stared ahead. Then his gaze caught on Crowley.

The wind ruffled the demon’s hair. A bird sat on one of the apple trees and chirped.

Crowley had an inherent feeling that something was on his mind. He didn’t pay attention. He never paid much attention to the outside world where the garden was involved.

He told him to stop being a useless angel and get it over with[8].

‘Crowley, we need to talk,’ said Aziraphale, soft but insistent. He was full of those adorable paradoxes.

The way those words came out of his mouth—it wasn’t talking, it was Talking[9].

Crowley didn’t pause his digging and told him, deadpan, ‘We’re talking right now.’

‘That’s not what I meant and you know it.’

He did, and dreaded that he did. That’s demons and Feelings for you. They had them, they acknowledged them, but they didn’t like Talking about them because it was undemony and embarrassing. The Feelings just… existed.

His love[10] for Aziraphale Existed. Aziraphale’s love for him Existed. Wasn’t that _enough_?

Crowley was perfectly fine this way, anyway. There was an eternity yet to come! Why deal with it now? Now was a time to do some light gardening and sleep and Exist, together, in harmony, in peace, or, well, not-war, and cuddle with the cat and go for swims in the icy water and laugh and enjoy being on their own side, _finally_ —

He said, ‘Hmm.’

‘I’m serious, Crowley.’ Aziraphale let his hands sink into the pot, on the soil. He must’ve hated that. ‘What Lucifer said…’

‘He said a lot of things. You need to be a little more specific, angel.’

‘For Heaven’s sake love, you know what I’m talking about!’

Crowley’s hand came to an abrupt halt.

Yeah.

That.

_Love_.

The stuff they were Not Talking About. Of _course_.

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so crass—and that, it just slipped—’

Crowley laid the trowel aside and rubbed dirt off of his hands. Unsuccessfully on the most part. He finally turned his head and released a breath. His eyes, they were _vulnerable_.

‘Aziraphale,’ he said, like a prayer, something sacred. He reached out and covered the angel’s soft hand with his own, mucky one. ‘No, I’m. _I’m_ sorry. But.’ He gave him a pleading look, one full of whirling emotions. ‘Is there even anything to talk about?’

_Demons and Feelings! Think of that, Aziraphale!_

‘I don’t know, is there?’

Well, now he was sending a rather loud mental message of _are you fucking dumb? You know what I meant, and you know I—_

‘You _know_ , angel.’ He gave Aziraphale’s hand a squeeze and smiled, ever so genuinely. Enough to surprise himself. ‘Must’ve known for centuries. I didn’t exactly hide it.’

Aziraphale leant away from the pot and let his hands, one still in Crowley’s hold, fall onto his knees. Just as he had predicted, there were stains. Right now, he didn’t care. He did the only thing he could do right now.

He brought those dirt-stained hands to Crowley’s cheeks and pressed his forehead against his. He was glad for the absence of the sunglasses right now; they would make things awkward. Dig into his face, for one.

‘I know, Crowley. I could, well. Feel it.’

Right. Yeah. That made sense. Crowley must have been radiating Love all over. That was what happened when a demon acknowledged a Feeling. He wanted to scoff at Aziraphale, or something, but didn’t because that would ruin the moment. Again. As much as he wanted to crawl under the ground.

Well.

Well, he did feel it too; it was an odd, syrupy sensation he as a demon would rather get rid of because it was the _opposite_ of spooky, but a few decades will have anyone get used to it and want to jump into it like it was a syrup-filled pool.

An angel’s love felt like that, he’d tell you, since he was already pressured into Talking here.

Not that the skin-to-skin contact wasn’t nice and he wasn’t basking in it like a snake in the sun.

Aziraphale continued, ‘I didn’t want to, for a while, but I came through in the end, silly old me. That was about the time the bomb dropped on that church, when was that?’

‘1941?’

‘Ah, yes,’ he smiled. ‘1941.’

He pressed a kiss to Crowley’s forehead. The spot tingled.

‘That was also the time I realised that I,’ he paused. Pulled away. Looked into his eyes, blue to yellow. He whispered the rest of the sentence. ‘Loved you too. But you must understand that I couldn’t say anything; I wasn’t sure what to do. Our sides…’

_Would do worse than just kills us. As they **tried to**_.

‘Yeah, me too, angel,’ he said, _understanding_.

He didn’t mention his deliberate choice not to _explicitly_ say anything even afterwards, just in case.

Aziraphale nodded, and let go of Crowley’s cheeks. Crowley yearned for the touch to linger for a little bit longer. ‘But as you pointed out, my dear boy, we’re on our own side now. No more hiding.’

That he could agree with. But, ‘I thought that was clear when we bought the house.’

‘Hush, you.’

Aziraphale did not quite know what to do with himself. He fidgeted and wiggled uncomfortably—ah, so Crowley wasn’t alone in that[11]—and then fixed his gaze on the ground.

An earthworm lazily crawled across the garden bed. The bird had flown away, and so they were surrounded by silence. It wasn’t an unpleasant, suffocating silence. Never was, with the two of them.

Crowley took an intrepid deep breath and broke it with, ‘It’s okay now, Aziraphale. It’s all okay.’

Aziraphale beamed and hit him with a wave of syrupy love and pure angelic excitement so strong it could break concrete. Crowley shuddered.

‘It’s okay,’ Aziraphale repeated, the smile in his eyes, lips, everywhere.

It was deeply contagious.

Somewhere above, God cheered. Sun peeked out from behind grey clouds and spilt light and warmth all over the South Downs, and She wasn’t even ashamed.

‘Let’s plant those bloody plants now. No talking back from you,’ Crowley warned his angel, and grabbed the trowel again. The hole was nearly deep enough, but not quite. There was some more digging to do.

‘If you insist…’

‘I insist.’ Dig. ‘Very much.’ Dig. ‘Got them for you and all.’ Dig.

Aziraphale carefully extracted the blackcurrant bush from the pot[12].

‘Oh, that’s very kind of you,’ he said, finally, _finally_ seeing this for what it was[13]. 

Crowley twitched and scrunched up his nose, more in habit than anything. ‘Don’t say things like that. I still have a reputation to preserve.’

Aziraphale patted his thigh with an equally dirty hand and stained his jeans even further. ‘I’m jolly sure that was ruined when we moved in, Crowley.’

‘Oi!’ He threatened him with the trowel, another reminiscence of the old times. His heart wasn’t really in it. His face was still beaming, so his next statement couldn’t fool a toddler. ‘I’m a big bad demon, me.’

‘Whatever you say, you old serpent.’

Crowley the trowel. ‘Just pass me the bush already if you want this done any time today.’

The angel did.

Crowley inspected it, turning it this and that way to see how to put it in the ground. It was still rather small and wouldn’t bear any fruits for another two years at least—but he hoped he could terrify it into producing next year.

What would be the _point_ , otherwise?

* * *

1 Which was the most undemony demon on the face of this universe, really, but that didn’t bother him; he bloody didn’t mean to _Fall_ , in case you needed reminding. He just wanted to hang out with the lower-ranking angels (Lucifer and The Guys) so they wouldn’t feel left out, and maybe because he wanted to get away from Gabriel and Michael for a while, too. And look where that got him!

Far away from Gabriel and Michael, sure enough.

But, on the other hand, he could get closer to humans and continue doing his job and helping them the way he was always meant to. He practically invented secret jobs on the side, centuries before they became a thing! There _had_ been that terrifying moment in history when humans started associating the Archangel Raphael with the caduceus, _two snakes wound around a winged rod_ , which was all too telling, but neither angels nor demons put two and two together and thankfully left him alone. So like he said once, it wasn’t too bad when you got used to it.[✿]

2 Gone too native if you asked Crowley. On the flip side, _he_ was the one procuring the fruits neither angels nor demons required to eat, and driving a car, and regularly sleeping, so his opinion was hardly reliable.[✿]

3 Regardless of them being correct. He could have purchased a redcurrant bush just as well.[✿]

4 Nanny Ashtoreth secretly did almost all the work by nights, anyway. Those years hardly counted in Crowley’s book, and it _showed._ [✿]

5 Although the apples from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil weren’t Galas, Crowley appreciated the irony that the two sole trees in the cottage’s garden were apple trees. He liked apples. Both for the obvious reason and reasons that had mostly to do with the flavour and overall enjoyable texture. And you could swallow them whole if you were a snake and had little time to eat.[✿]

6 He was very fond of poisonous plants. Also for the obvious reasons. As a bonus, nothing would try to eat them and they would always stay beautiful—and they did, because they were good at listening to what he had to say and taking his advice to heart. If plants had a heart, that is.[✿]

7 It had just… appeared on his skin after the Fall, right where he had had his golden angelic marks. It was semi-sentient and sent Feelings his way, sometimes. And it never faded. Granted, it was annoying and inconvenient at points, but that part of history was (hopefully) behind him, and so he mostly loved it.

He got two further tattoos on his ribs and thigh when the 21st century rolled around, but those were just the normal, human ones: a proper, detailed black snake of the _Colubridae_ family, and a floral artwork. Why, do you ask? He’d probably tell you _why the hell not_. The lesser-known reason was that he didn’t want the tiny serpent to be lonely.[✿]

8 With good humour, of course.[✿]

9 That was Very Good where God and the Divine Bet were concerned. For a moment, She tuned out the rest of the angels and other divinities and focused on the one particular house in the South Downs.[✿]

10 Here, God, Lucifer, Crowley, and probably even Beelzebub if you got zir drunk enough would tell you that there was nothing unusual about that statement. It wasn’t _at_ _all_ inappropriate for demons to love; they were once angels, after all, and angels were often dubbed Beings of Love. Most demons merely chose not to, just as angels could and did, albeit very rarely. Crowley was no such demon, and neither was Mazikeen, probably the only Hellion who had learnt to love. In her case, it _was_ astounding, but that is, also, a story for another time. Similarly to Crowley’s, it involved Eve. Just not in the Garden, and much, much later.[✿]

11 He might have suspected, but he was still pleased with the development, being the selfish demon he was. So, _so_ selfish.[✿]

12 It had begun to lose patience about three minutes ago and was _very_ glad the fussy, indecisive angel finally decided to get it out and let it breathe. It was ever so excited about finally being planted, and then that![✿]

13 A load of future jam for crepes and pastries, among other things. His mouth watered at the thought, even though it shouldn’t do so because he wasn’t human. It was a habit he had developed somewhere around the sixth century BC.[✿]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one part of me says a slow-paced asexual relationship for these two and the other says they shagged right as they came home from the ritz so i guess this fic has—will have—a mix of both?


	6. in which lucifer sets his plan in motion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i finally got to assembling some sort of a chapter outline and timeline last week and got to the number 25, so you've got a lot to look for yet :)
> 
> and i've seen a lot of people complain about faulty footnotes in chaptered works, so in case this actually helps anyone: in order to jump to the correct place instead of the first chapter over and over when you download or read as an entire work, you can't name the notes "note1" "return1" or however you name them every time, but rather name them differently for every chapter, something like "chap1note1" "chap1return1" "chap2note1" "chap2return1" etc. that's it, that's the magic

Call Crowley, he had said.

It will be a good idea, he had said.

Good ideas usually didn’t tend to blow up in one’s face, that’s what they did.

Or buzz under one’s nose and keep trying to sit on the lapels of one’s very expensive suit jacket, as it were.

Lucifer should have known that the serpent’s opinion on his co-workers would be strongly biased, but the King was momentarily blinded by the haze of talking to Chloe all night and chlorine gas leaking from a pipe above, and wasn’t quite in his right mind.

So, you must understand, he was not to blame him for his recent failures. No, that was entirely Crowley being no help at all and brushing it off with “I’ve got no time, sorry, got stuff[1] to take care of”.

In the light of such, Lucifer had been forced to come up with a plan of sorts himself—or finish brewing the half-cooked one he’d taken off the cooker and put in the fridge after the case-involving conversation with his girlfriend yesterday, anyway.

Said plan had nothing better to do than to involve Beelzebub, a former Prince of Hell turned Duke of Hell and perhaps, hopefully, a possible future ally.

Not that that was a _bad_ idea in and of itself. It was just that Beelzebub was entirely _useless_ when it came to dealing with important matters by zirself—and oh the _flies_. They were so annoying Lucifer contemplated leaving Hell for a minute and dealing with things in the Main Building’s[2] lobby, where they’d disappear in favour of the atrocious hat and make the atmosphere a little more breathable.

He didn’t. That would be risky at its highest.

He stopped breathing and reminded himself why he was _there_.

Beelzebub had been the one to deliver the No War status update, orchestrate the first execution, fail, then actually _think_ about the Divine Plan instead of straight-out chucking it out of a proverbial window and agree there was something logical about it, and _then_ be demoted for treasonous words and overall failure in leadership, by Dagon, Hastur, and a legion of Hellions no less.

Ze was the closest thing to a reasonable demon[3] Lucifer could find on his own, right now.

And ze had experience in negotiating with Heaven on business terms, which was precisely what he needed today. He’d rather not put his temper to test on the stuck-up feathery bastards.

Things would go much more easily if Amenadiel was still in the Silver City, but alas, this particular feathery bastard grew to like being a daddy to his little angel and cut all contact with Heaven after he had dealt with the initial post-Armageddon’t disarray[4].

Call luck of the Devil _now_.

‘You want my help?’ Beelzebub asked, face stoic, unmoving. Ze was cataloguing reports when he came to zir new office space—shared with another Duke, who was snoring away in his chair—so a grubby old file still dangled in zir small hand. ‘And why should I help you? You abandoned uzz, left uzz.’

Yeah. That seemed to be on his plate a lot these days, so hit him again, why don’t you.

Lucifer waved two flies away. One sat right back onto his shoulder. ‘ _I_ ,’ said Lucifer, ‘am putting things back into order, and I think there have been a few misunderstandings where you’re concerned, Beelzebub.’

Beelzebub blinked. ‘Do tell, m’lord.’

He plastered on one of those faux smiles he reserved for criminals, demons, and other vermin. It was a habit he shared with Gabriel. Necessary in this case. ‘Well, surely you must admit this is hardly the place for a Prince of Hell,’ he said, spreading his arms around in a broad gesture. ‘And it’s hardly fair, being stuck here when you were just the messenger of the Armageddon’t. No, you deserve better.’

Still necessary, you see. There wasn’t a part of him that thought that Beelzebub really was the unfortunate scapegoat in the broad sense of things and didn’t deserve this. No.

Ze narrowed zir eyes and dropped the file. ‘I agree, m’lord,’ ze paused and regarded him with a sharp stare of many eyes. ‘Where’zz the catch?’

Lucifer braced himself on zir table to level the height difference. The smile gave way to red eyes. ‘It’s nothing too difficult, I should hope,’ he said. ‘I just need you to get me some Holy Water for an execution and inspire fear of the Devil in Lesser Demons. You know the drill.’

They hated zir, and if he reinstated zir in zir position of power, well. It would be a definite statement in favour of the Ineffable Plan. No arguing with Lucifer now. _Earth is off limits and I mean it. Look, I’m putting the demon who’s against the whole Armageddon business in charge._

Or so he hoped.

This plan could also easily go pear-shaped, or turn out to be undercooked, but he was willing to risk it. He could always kill everyone—or, well, order someone else to kill everyone—send all the souls Up There for Heaven to deal with, and declare Hell shut down if the demons went completely off their rocker and tried to destroy him and his new rule.

Easy.

Father dear would have something other to do than just sit on a chair and observe, Lucifer reckoned, and he was pleased about the thought[5].

‘I wouldn’t call that eazzy,’ buzzed Beelzebub, ‘but executionzz are my forte and I’d love—ugh, excuzze the phrasing—to get the fuck out of _here_.’

‘I wouldn’t say _forte_ ,’ argued Lucifer, giving zir a smug smile and a glint of blood-red on his irises. ‘But it seems like we have a deal. I think I don’t need to say that there will be no war and that Earth is under my protection?’

One could never be too sure, Down Here. Backstabbing was an occurrence too frequent to be desired.

‘Of courzze. We can’t go againzzt the Divine Plan.’

On second thoughts, perhaps ze didn’t need to learn all that much after all. Something akin satisfaction swelled under Lucifer’s skin and clung, sticky and undesirable like a melted ice lolly but nonetheless there.

He leant away from the table, dusted his hands off, and said, ‘Excellent.’

Beelzebub picked up an old Nokia and dialled a number. Heaven’s[6]. The mobile started glowing when ze put it to zir ear, and ze flinched in pain. Heaven-to-Hell calls tended to cause trouble Down Here. Ze kept the conversation as brief as possible.

‘Holy Water’zz shortly on the way,’ ze said, then, unceremoniously dropping the mobile on zir desk. ‘Now get out, I need to pack.’

There was not much politeness to go on in Hell, for sure. Thinking about remedying the problem, Lucifer turned on his heel and left.

• 

‘Bring in the traitor.’

Nearly every last demon in Hell remembered those words. This time, they came out of a different mouth. More regal and distinguished, for one.

Azazel and Beelzebub came into the courtroom, carrying a snarling Neron in their hands. The Prince of Lies was currently incorporeal[7], but he didn’t need a body to make the hairs on the back of Lucifer’s neck to prickle. If you were looking for someone truly vile, he was your guy.

And Lucifer was _not_ looking.

Neron tilted his immaterial head at Lucifer and bared his teeth. ‘Lucifer! Word was that you were getting too cosy with a _human_ up there and letting Hell fall into a speck of its former glory,’ he _tsked_. ‘You’re not a worthy King—’

‘Silenzze!’ Beelzebub spat. Azazel forced him on his knees.

Lucifer unfurled his wings. He will show him a _worthy king_ —

The audience behind the glass gasped in terror, and some tried to turn away from their burning brightness. Creature-demons wriggled on their vessels’ heads. They remembered splashes of Holy Water on glass, sizzling away.

His impressive wingspan still on display, Lucifer sat down into Beelzebub’s improvised throne. It was no match for his own, but it would have to do for the occasion. He fixed his jacket and sat straighter than the Prince ever could[8]. His gaze was transfixed on Neron, the heart of the rebellion, the soon-to-be-crushed hope of the foolish believers.

Or non-believers, depends on who you ask.

‘Neron, Prince of Lies, you are charged with the crimes of treason, illegal possession of multiple humans, attempted coup d’etat, etcetera, etcetera, we’d be here for two hours if I had to name them all. Do you have anything to say in your defence?’

Not that anyone would listen, but come on, even Hell had to have some decency when the King saw to it.

The demon smirked and said, ‘Not to you, Lucifer. Fraternising with humans and _angels_.’

Lucifer’s eyes shone red again, but this time with anger. He _loved_ Chloe, and he never _stopped_ being an angel, and _no one_ was going to insult him on the throne. He sprung to his feet, menacing.

‘Is that all?’

_So this isn’t enough_? he thought. _I’ll show you what I’ve got, then_.

His entire body, wings to head to toe, shone with celestial light, the Lightbringer in full power. There were his bloody eyes and Devil Face, which could make humans and demons alike cower in fear, and then there was the might of the Cherubim.

It lasted for two seconds, but that was still enough for the demons to screech in terror and hurry to cover their eyes.

After Beelzebub recovered from the display, ze sent a respectful nod his way, recognising the leader they had all once Fallen for. Good.

‘Has anyone else got anything to say? Dagon? Belial?’ He turned his head to look at the Duke and Prince by his side, respectively. No one said anything under his withering stare. He fixed it on Neron. ‘No? Well then, the Council of Higher Demons[9] finds you guilty on all charges and sentences you to death by Holy Water.’

As if on cue, the lift dinged and the door opened, revealing, once again, Michael in all of her celestial beauty and bearing a ewer of pure, terrifying liquid. She gracefully walked to the tub and filled it with a practised move.

The shaken demons recoiled in fear of a drop going astray and accidentally vaporising them. Never mind the glass. It was an instinct, and they _weren’t_ as quick to put themselves together as the Prince.

It felt like a deja vu to everyone but Lucifer, who had only heard the story.

‘Michael,’ he said, expression unreadable. And not just because it was suddenly too dark. ‘Dear sibling[10], it has been a while.’

If he didn’t count the Cards Against Divinity, of course. Then it would have been a month ago. But no one counted the game nights. It was a thing they Didn’t Talk About, just as the Backchannels or Reading Each Other’s Newspaper[11].

Things have been much more open and agreeable after Armageddon’t, but still.

‘Lucifer,’ she gave him a curt nod and stepped aside. ‘Nice to see you taking care of things—but I do hope you got it right this time around.’

_It wasn’t my fault! I wasn’t here!_ he wanted to say. _If I were here, there wouldn’t be an execution in the first place_ , he wanted to add. He wisely kept his mouth shut on this matter.

‘Are you going to watch this time around?’ he dared her with a lifted eyebrow.

Michael stayed right where she was. ‘As a matter of fact…’

Lucifer nodded at Azazel and Beelzebub, the signal to carry on. As they dragged him over to the full bath, the only clean thing in Hell besides Lucifer’s suit, Neron tried to break out of Azazel’s grip. Even incorporeal, he put up quite the fight, the atoms of his appearance shifting and rearranging with every second and somehow _pushing_ against the hands of two strong Princes.

Unsuccessfully.

‘Not so strong now, eh?’ Beelzebub sneered and let go of him. Had he had a body, things might’ve turned around—but then again, had he had a body, Lucifer would grab a Hellhound or two and let them _bite_.

‘This isn’t over,’ Neron shouted and spread his arms in an imitation of wings. They shimmered. ‘You’ll see. Hell will be ours. We’re getting stronger by the day.’

Azazel’s thunderous voice boomed through the room. ‘Get in the bath, _traitor_.’

Now, the audience behind the glass hissed and screamed with delight. They didn’t care who was being executed as long as _someone_ was, the torment-eager, bored imbeciles. Looked like they were getting better quite fast after all.

Neron sat on the ledge of the bath. ‘You can’t kill a spreading thought,’ he grinned, maniacal, and then tipped himself back and fell into the water with a splash before Lucifer could reply with a “we’ll see about that”.

A droplet or four splashed onto the ground and hissed like acid.

The Prince screamed until there was nothing left of him, not a single atom.

Lucifer internally winced at the sight and tried not to let his fear show. He didn’t believe Holy Water could harm him, personally, but seeing this, seeing a former Cherub like himself suffer such fate—it was near as unbearable.

More so in the light of what he was going to do.

Michael stepped over to the bath and sucked the Water back into her ewer as if gravity was purely optional for her[12]. She remained unfaltering, or at least was as good at keeping appearances as the Devil himself.

Lucifer folded his wings and cleared his throat. He could use a glass of something unholy right now. ‘Behold, demons!’ he bellowed, an echo of his voice carrying around the courtroom and beyond. ‘The fate of everyone who dares disobey the commands of your King and God Himself, Prince or Hellion alike. You weren’t satisfied with the freedom I gave you and the leaders I gave you?’ He fixed his gaze on Beelzebub. ‘Then you’ve got what you wanted. Does anyone here not take me seriously still?’

Silence.

‘Good. Now, I’ve reinstated Beelzebub as a Prince of Hell and named zir my official deputy and right hand. You will listen to what ze says, and if you don’t like it, you can jump right into the bath. I am keeping the jug in my office, ready for immediate use.’

Michael raised a neat eyebrow at that, unaware of his plans. Lucifer hasn’t been aware of his plans until a minute ago, either, but he gestured at her to bring it to him all the same. She did, and Lucifer lifted it in his hands.

He was afraid, _oh_ how he was afraid, but this was necessary.

He tilted the jug and spilt a few drops on his hand.

As Amenadiel had said, celestials controlled their minds and souls and bodies with subconscious belief, with conviction. When he was convinced he was a monster, he became one. When he admitted he wasn’t one, and he loved a human, and loved Earth, his white wings grew back.

When he was convinced he was an angel[13] and Holy Water couldn’t hurt him, it wouldn’t.

It didn’t.

(There went the body swap trick: right out of the window. Even without it, Aziraphale and Crowley would have survived, provided they believed they would. Funny, how things could turn out.)

‘You called the last demon who could do this a traitor. I call him transcendent, and you should _learn_ ,’ he said. He wiped his hand on his trousers. ‘Do you understand?’

The demons hissed in agreement; some knelt. Lucifer laid the ewer on the ground next to the throne-chair. Internally, he was trembling. He didn’t let it show on his aura, much less his corporate body. That would be rather counterproductive.

Michael let her phlegmatic image waver for a second and give way to disbelief. She didn’t see him before, and a small part of Lucifer wished she did, she who’d cast him out of Heaven and towards eternal damnation.

‘Anyone who provokes a riot ends up in the Water. Anyone who purposefully refuses to work ends up in the Water. Anyone who disobeys an order from me or one of the Princes present in this room ends up in the Water. Anyone who goes on Earth or possesses or kills a human without my direct permission ends up in the Water. Anyone who tries to restart the Apocalypse or go against the Plan ends up in the Water. Is that clear?’

More hisses, nods.

The easy half of his plan was successfully behind him; now on with the tough shite!

‘Good. Spread the word. And now _get to work_.’ He waved them off with a gesture. ‘Chop chop, we don’t have all day. Beelzebub, with me.’

Empty-handed and marginally scandalised on the side, Michael went to summon the lift. The demons slowly shuffled off the premises and towards the tasks Dagon had given them earlier. Most had something to do with throwing things out, putting things in order, and replacing old, grimy things with new ones.

Beelzebub scurried over. ‘Yes?’

‘We’re visiting a few particular hell loops and breaking people out,’ he smiled, as excited as he was when arresting people or cocaine were involved. Or maybe it was the shock wearing off. ‘Hell’s in for a redecoration, and for that, my demonic friend, we need architects and designers, and Dad knows we won’t find any among the demonkind.’

Looking among their ranks in the first place had been, as you can imagine, a grave mistake. Demons should be in charge of torture, not the tortured ones.

Or, at least, upper-basement-level demons. They were much less likely to riot if they were comfortable, if Lucifer was any judge of character[14], and comfortable demons could be partially trusted with handling the uncomfortable ones down in the basement of a basement.

Beelzebub scrunched up zir nose. ‘That izz true,’ ze agreed. ‘But are you sure it’zz a good idea, getting soulzz out?’

‘Nope,’ he said, popping the p. See? This was what he’d been talking about. Stupid, occupied, lovesick Crowley, his go-to guy when it came to ideas. ‘But do you have a better one? Do you know anyone who’d have a better one?’

Ze thought for a while and then said, wisely omitting zirself, ‘No.’

‘Thought so. Come on, then, hold on.’ He offered zir his arm. Travelling through Hell was tricky like that. You could easily get lost among the torture chambers when you didn’t know where you were going. Ze took it. Flies immediately landed on Lucifer’s jacket again. ‘On second thoughts—can you tell your little pets to back off?’

Ze gave him a thoroughly disgusted look. ‘They’re my eyezz,’ ze jabbed at him. ‘They’re not going anywhere.’

Ah, right. Eyes. Ze used to be a Seraph, didn’t ze?

‘Fine, then,’ Lucifer sighed, and made the ground under their feet shift and rearrange itself. They were standing in front of a door in the next instant, a German architect, died 2013. Certainly fit to rework an office building for a small reward.

A less nightmarish memory for his loop, perhaps. Yes, that could work.

Now, he only had to find someone to fix the pipes once and for all, clean the walls, and change the faulty strip lights—or miracle it done himself. Reorganising files was already underway, Lucifer hoped.

After today, well. The lazy demons will even obey, and he can sit down on his throne and watch Dis turn over and change and get on a path of law and order and _rest_ under his wing[15], at least where the demons were concerned, and at least for a century or two.

After that—no, he hated thinking about it, admitting it—

His humans will be—

Chloe—

After that, he can take Maze and Eve and stay.

Now he needed to get back _out_ , and preferably without an epidemic of coups.

He entered the hell loop, Beelzebub and zir flies in tow.

* * *

1 Stuff being the freshly planted fruit bushes and Aziraphale’s dirty clothes, which, in Crowley’s opinion, were long beyond miracling clean and in dire need of replacing. He had told him so on many occasions throughout the last couple of decades, but Aziraphale always refused to listen, the stubborn angel. At least he lost the coat and bowtie in his company nowadays, miracled one (1) of Crowley’s old T-shirts to change colour, and took to sleeping in it.[✿]

2 It connected the Upper Management building in Dis, eighteen different cities on Earth, including London or LA, and the Earth Affairs Management building in the Silver City with a single lift and a set of escalators, and therefore was very convenient if you needed to arrange an execution or play a round of Cards Against Divinity. They were certainly more fun with demons around. Don’t tell Gabriel and Uriel. Or Aziraphale and Crowley. They had no idea.

Michael, on the other hand, had the third-largest win count, after the Duke of Hell Dantalion and, to no one’s surprise, Azrael. Lucifer came fourth and was bitter about the whole situation.[✿]

3 And therefore, maybe, a suitable replacement. But for that, he’d have to work on zir a little bit more—get zir fully on his side and make zir _learn_. Well. If nothing else, Lucifer had time.[✿]

4 It had been significantly easier than Downstairs, getting the Heavenly Host to stand down and get back to work, because angels have always been a more organised lot and quicker to follow orders, what with their lack of imagination, which usually led to them _not_ imagining they could have free will and say _no_ every once in a while. They were also quicker to get on board with the thwarting-the-Great-Plan-is-a-part-of-the-Ineffable-Plan objective and acted like they’d known all along, the hypocrites.

That said, it had taken Amenadiel about four earthly months to put things in order. Most still liked it no more than the demons and had no idea what to do, because no one counted with another eternity of doing the same. Some angels quit the Earth Department and went somewhere else like they were supposed to after winning the war; the other planets generally weren’t meant to go boom any time soon, and so they provided enough work to do, places to observe, nations to guide, people to smite. Some angels moped around their office and stared out of the window for the majority of their days. Some continued to do their job. And some felt particularly hypocritical and went for their everyday jogs on Earth as if nothing had happened. Yes, Gabriel, we’re talking about you.[✿]

5 A real idiot of a son She had. You couldn’t just lock Hell down; a balance must be maintained in the Universe. Good and Bad, Yin and Yang, Gods and Devils. Free will and all that. You couldn’t take the choice away from the people. Seriously, She shook Her head at Lucifer and lamented that She hadn’t gone all these lengths for him to fuck things up. _No, Lucifer, this is a good plan, I like your logic_ — _you did always take after me, didn’t you?_ She wanted to tell him. She didn’t, because that would be meddling.[✿]

6 Unlike Hell’s numbers, the dialling code of which was 69—yes, Lucifer was responsible for this, naturally; 666 would be too obvious and 420 was already taken, so he chose the next best option—Heaven’s all began with 000, because they weren’t particularly creative, and it was easy to remember and recognise.[✿]

7 Discorporation by exorcism, a nasty thing. John Constantine was the world’s leading expert, so he’d had no problem handling a Prince such as him. He had not been issued a new body, on Lucifer’s orders, because it would be a tremendous waste of paperwork on someone who was to be executed in a week.[✿]

8 He had longer legs, for one.[✿]

9 Lucifer has just made this up.[✿]

10 Back when Michael had cast him and the others out of Heaven, he had called himself a male being and looked about the way humans imagined a proper Archangel to look like: long wavy hair, a mighty, lean and yet muscular body, a bit of an androgynous energy, and a sword in hand. Michael got fed up with that and decided a change was due around the fifteenth century when he got discorporated for the third, or maybe seventh, time in his eternal life. Her newest body was much, much nicer if you asked her. The pronouns, too. She could see how Making An Effort could be nice for an angel.[✿]

11 It was a source of information on the enemy side, of course, but mostly, they did the crossword puzzles and occasionally helped each other out with those. What else would telephones be for?[✿]

12 Gravity was, in fact, optional for Hell. As it lay on the other side of Heaven, it was turned upside down, and should a metaphysical being look at the two from a distance, they would see two sides of the same coin, light and dark, joined at the centre. Hell was, to put it simply, like Australia. When you walked its streets, you had no idea you were walking upside down, but everyone else would say you did. But you could always flip the coin. That’s what they did to gravity—not unlike in _The Good Place_ , Crowley’s favourite TV series besides _The Golden Girls_ , where they let humans fly. Water could go the other way. A demon could sleep on the ceiling.[✿]

13 If he had any doubts before, they were all in the wind now. He even got to test this theory in front of everyone else, and quite thoroughly, too![✿]

14 He spent a good many centuries considering himself the best there was, the Master of Desire himself. He was wrong. Not by that much, though.[✿]

15 Pun intended.[✿]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the reason neron is here instead of dromos or anyone from lucifer is the parallel fic. it was a Whole Big Thing there, him trying to take earth and then hell, and this still follows its timeline. so yeah, i lied, i did borrow one comic (and legends of tomorrow series) character here.


	7. in which some rather undesirable visitors drop in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I POSTED A [PREQUEL](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20209264) ABOUT AZ & CROWLEY POST-ARMAGEDDON'T READ IT EVERYONE <3
> 
> now, i'm on holiday and this is the last chapter i've got and idk if i'll be able to update on both thu & mon. probably not. we'll see.

It was a nice morning. Most mornings in their still relatively new, unexplored, unfamiliar home were rather nice, if they didn’t let something as trivial as rain and wind spoil them.

This was the English shore. There would _always_ be rain and wind and crashing waves and annoyingly screeching waterfowl and broken shells to pick up.

Nice, in this case, meant _together_ and _at peace_. Weather was inconsequential to ethereal and occult beings. The tendency to complain about it and blame it for one’s actions, or lack thereof, was purely, undeniably _human_.

So, the current absence of grey, clustered clouds in the sky was just a coincidence. Also nice.

Crowley opened his eyes to find Aziraphale sitting on top of the bedsheets, dressed in nothing more than a light shirt and a pair of trousers. Behind those dreadful reading glasses, his eyes flitted over the lines of a worn Agatha Christie paperback. He started on this one yesterday, Crowley knew, and already got halfway through.

Crowley stretched, rolled onto his back, and didn’t realise the reason Aziraphale hadn’t stuck his feet under the covers was that Crowley had stolen all of them during the night. Again.

Look, snakes liked warmth. Sue him.

Aziraphale turned his gaze away from the novel and said, ‘Good morning, you old serpent. There were biscuits, but you didn’t seem to cease indulging yourself in a spot of Sloth any time soon, so I ate them. Sorry.’

‘Pretty sure that’s Gluttony, angel,’ murmured Crowley into his blanket nest. His mouth felt like a mouse went and died in it[1] and his hair has surely seen better days, but he blamed it on the previous night’s drinks and waved it off with a yawn.

He could _feel_ the glare bearing into his skin.

‘The equivocal nature and definitions of Sins could be up for debate, which I don’t feel inclined to get into right now,’ Aziraphale said, eventually, and therefore admitting his reproach on the matter. Crowley smirked. ‘I’d rather get back to my book, if you don’t mind.’

‘I don’t mind,’ he mocked. A blanket-wrapped knee nudged Aziraphale’s leg. ‘You’re the one accusing me of being lazy over here.’

Which, he was. He liked being Lazy, when he didn’t feel like being Dramatic or Cool.

Aziraphale licked a finger and turned over a page in feigned indifference. Crowley yawned again and slithered out of bed, snatching his dressing gown[2] on the way. He threw it over himself and miracled his hair brushed and tucked behind his ears. Coffee. It was time for coffee.

He didn’t hear Aziraphale’s reply, if there ever was one.

He pressured his espresso machine into surrendering a double shot of espresso and found that Aziraphale wasn’t lying about the biscuits. There were none, not even a scone or a slice of bread. He sighed. He would have to go over to town to do the shopping, and he _hated_ doing the shopping.

Doing the shopping was for _humans_.

Just _why_ couldn’t Aziraphale miracle the Bentley going and do it himself was beyond him. He’d been doing it for almost ninety years now[3]; it wasn’t particularly _hard_. Especially when the car seemed to be somewhat self-aware and capable of making its own decisions at points.

Miracling a fridge full would just make him pass out for another six hours, though, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to give Aziraphale the satisfaction. Shopping it bloody was, then.

Later.

Crowley took his mug outside and sat down on the first step, ignoring the chilly gusts of wind giving the oleander and his hair a run for their money. He downed a half of the coffee and looked out into the sky. Right in front of him, there was a cloud that looked a fat serpent trying to eat a duck, and wasn’t that just ironic?

There weren’t many clouds beyond that. Just blue all over the place and the sun, his Sun, the star he hung into the sky billions and billions of years ago for his Father and Mother and Their angels and—fuck, now wasn’t the time to get nostalgic over that.

It was sunny. Full stop.

All of the past week has been unusually sunny[4], he noticed.

Small miracles Crowley could do well enough, so he conjured up his sunglasses to shade his reptilian eyes from the light, and a cigarette[5] between his lips. He lit it with a snap of his fingers and inhaled, letting the sun stroke his cold skin. A seagull flew overhead, screaming a rude word at something below.

He blew out the smoke and sipped at his coffee some more.

Then his mobile rang, sporting that satanblessed name which still gave him the creeps.

Bloody _Lucifer_.

With a habitual scowl, he picked it up, taking another drag. ‘Yeah?’ he asked in a tone that suggested he’d rather be doing virtually _anything_ else than talking to him right now.

He would, too.

Lucifer greeted him with his customary ‘Crowley, brother!’ and honestly, will he _stop_ with that already? How many times did he have to tell him that they weren’t even from the same _choir_ — ‘I’ve got good news. Well, news, at any rate.’

‘No more questions[6], then?’ he said darkly, exhaling smoke in the process.

‘No,’ Lucifer said, half a laugh. ‘I mean, there is a question, but isn’t there always, at the base of things? No, Crowley, I’d like to inform you that thanks to _your_ intel, I’ve been able to secure my position at last, and everything’s coming up Lucifer.’

Crowley swallowed the rest of the coffee in a single gulp. ‘You’re welcome?’ he said, too uncertainly for his liking, and wanted to cringe at himself. The cursing seagull came back, and it was right. Crowley stretched one pyjama-clad leg and slouched back as if he could see him. He tried again. ‘Well, ‘course it is, I’m the smartest demon in the area.’

‘Of that I have no doubt,’ said Lucifer. ‘Sadly enough.’

Crowley pictured the grime and disorganised piles he’d left behind, not to mention the fire and brimstone, and the floor being literally lava in certain areas, and the masses of bored, technologically-inept demons mucking about. He was proud of himself for having waved that goodbye for all eternity.

He’s never belonged in Hell. Not really. Why do you think he spent so much time on Earth, in the company of humans and Aziraphale and far away from his demonic colleagues?

‘Yeah, well. You know demons,’ he said vaguely. He took a drag of his cigarette.

‘Listen,’ Lucifer began, and oh, that bore no good. Or bad. Or, bless it, you know what Crowley meant. ‘I’ve got some friends up on Earth who’d like me to—’

There was a crash inside the house. Lucifer kept on talking, but Crowley’s ears were pricked up in another direction.

Dull thuds. Words. Someone was inside. Oh _shit_.

‘—just for a few hours, you understand—’

Crowley sprung to his feet and stamped out the cigarette under his bare foot. It didn’t burn. He opened the door and ran inside, just a little short of breath and bordering on anxious. The mug lay on the steps, forgotten.

‘—with Hell more or less under control, I decided to agree and I need someone reliable in charge—’

Aziraphale stood in the kitchen, waving a kitchen roll as an impromptu weapon around in an uncharacteristically threatening manner, and Crowley froze on the spot, half in utter shock and half in wonder because _what the fuck, Aziraphale_? His eyes grew wide.

‘Explain yourself now or I _will_ attack,’ the angel called. He was as menacing as a primary-schooler threatening a dog who ate their homework for dinner. ‘I—I won’t hold back!’

‘Really now, Aziraphale, _paper_?’ asked the intruder, and Crowley suddenly wished for a sword, or a ball of Hellfire, _something_. Blood ran still in his veins. This was—this—the utter _arsehole_ , how _dare_ he— ‘We both know you couldn’t hurt a fly.’

Gabriel slowly entered the kitchen, his customary oh-please-cut-the-crap expression on and ready and his light grey suit pressed to obnoxious perfection.

The morning swiftly became one of the less nice ones. See? They were right about the weather.

Aziraphale braved on, ‘I am not afraid of you, you—you saw what I did! With the Hellfire[7]!’

‘—Crowley, are you even _listening_ to me?’ asked Lucifer on the other side of the line, frustrated[8].

‘Nope, sorry, call later.’ Crowley dropped the phone on the tiles. For a moment there, it considered shattering its display but thought better of it and landed without a scratch. Crowley bared his teeth and snarled, dripping metaphorical venom[9] from his mouth. ‘What do you _want_.’

He was this close[10] from punching the smug bastard in the face.

Gabriel’s purple eyes flickered between the two of them—and was that _amusement_ Crowley saw in them? _Fuck_ the guy. ‘Now, now, I come in one piece,’ said the Archangel, lifting his hands up in a half-arsed manner of surrender. ‘Is that the expression[11]? Anyway. I have no intent to kill or discorporate you both, as much as I’d like to—orders from the higher-ups, you see.’

Those words weren’t at all reassuring. Crowley instinctively stepped closer to his angel and felt a wave of gratefulness flood his mind.

Aziraphale lowered the roll ever so slightly; it pointed at Gabriel’s chest rather than head. His eyebrows went from furrowed in wrath to hopeful in a matter of seconds. ‘Higher-ups? Does that mean…?’

‘The Metatron, Aziraphale. I’m afraid the Almighty still isn’t talking to us[12],’ Gabriel said. He couldn’t help but sound condescending about it, but… No, Crowley must’ve read him wrong, through the sunglasses.

Could it be that he felt _grief _?__

‘Ah.’ The corners of Aziraphale’s mouth went down. His eyes were back to being distrustful the next instant. ‘What brings you here, then?’

What he meant was, _how the fuck did you know where to find us? We were careful not to leave any tracks! This is our sanctuary, our Home, and you dare invade it with your heavenly presence?_

Crowley knew, because Crowley had the exact same words on his mind. Well, maybe not the exact same, but the feeling was there.

Gabriel turned to Crowley. ‘Does the demon have to be here?’

Crowley’s eyes felt like burning a hole through the sunglasses. ‘The demon does indeed,’ he said, stone-cold. He wasn’t leaving Aziraphale alone with him, not after what he’d done in Heaven, that _bastard_ of a, ‘Brother.’

Gabriel flinched at the word. Crowley grinned something vicious and entirely too satisfied.

‘Fine. Listen. I don’t like this any more than you do, but orders are orders,’ he drawled, clasping his hands in front of him. A wing-shaped pin on his tie felt more like a reminder of restraint rather than a symbol of Holy Status. ‘Things have… changed in Heaven. A lot of staff left, Uriel retired and went to Canada, the Metatron took to reviewing some rules and regulations, blah blah blah, unimportant stuff. Bottom line is,’ he took a deep breath, the first in two hundred years. His eyes bore into Aziraphale’s. ‘You’re pardoned for thwarting the Great Plan and attempting to kill archangels with Hellfire, Principality Aziraphale, but we’re absolving you of all titles and functions and cutting down your wages to bare minimum.’ He flashed his customary, phony grin. ‘Don’t come back and we won’t speak of what you’ve become.’

_Consorting with the enemy_ , that face said.

Crowley honoured him with another self-satisfied smirk; one to match Gabriel’s own[13].

Aziraphale did his best impression of a feared warrior and said, proudly, ‘I accept your terms.’ Then he added he never intended to come back to begin with and went so far as to step over to Crowley and wrap his arm around his middle—still in pyjamas and dressing gown, he realised. Embarrassing.

The angel’s other hand still clutched at the roll of paper towels.

Crowley has never felt so smug and so mortified at the same time, not in billions of years[14].

‘Good. Heaven doesn’t need someone like _you_ in its ranks,’ said Gabriel, disgusted, both because Crowley was a wily demon and because he was still his brother deep down and _ugh_ , this incompetent idiot of an angel, really,Raphael. How can you like him. You have no _taste_.

They had been close like that, before everything went arse over teakettle and a war broke out.

Aziraphale nodded. ‘Good. May you never step foot—’

And then, _then_ , the Universe was really kidding them, because the kitchen tiles sizzled and a person stepped through bubbling black goo, small and thin and wearing the most atrocious hat in the history of hats[15]. At least the flies were nowhere in sight, being Topside.

Three pairs of eyes landed on zir face and Crowley groaned in overt frustration. ‘Oh, no, no, no, not you, nooo…’

It wasn’t just a not-nice morning. It was a Bad morning. As of now.

Gabriel cocked his eyebrow at Beelzebub, and ze mirrored the gesture. Clearly, neither of them liked being in each other’s company once again. Yet, no one made a move to leave, much to Crowley and Aziraphale’s chagrin.

Well, at least they didn’t get into a fight or anything. That would undoubtedly result in both physical and emotional damage on the cottage and a metric tonne of miracles needed to fix it, not to mention a right—wrong—disaster to become privy to.

Beelzebub’s eyes snapped to Crowley. ‘I’ve got a message for you, traitor.’

Aziraphale’s hand on his tightened, and it was Nice, unlike the ruined day. Worthy of the capital letter feeling and all. Nevertheless, the angel’s aura was distinctly anxious, for the same reason Crowley _still_ wanted to punch Gabriel in his smug face.

The bloody _trial_.

‘Right,’ said Crowley, with the same energy he usually reserved to talking to Lucifer.

Gabriel looked ready to produce lightning from clear sky and strike Beelzebub down.

He didn’t, and that was, once again, a huge relief.

‘Boss didn’t want to risk it and wait for you to call him[16] so he sent me,’ said the Lord of Flies, relying a memorised piece of message from—Lucifer? He’s made Beelzebub into his personal assistant now, or what? ‘He says that when thingzz are under control now—which they _are_ ,’ ze narrowed zir eyes at Gabriel, ‘he wantzz to pop upstairs for a day or two to go to hizz _girlfriend_ [17] and needzz someone to sit on the bloody chair.’

‘Oh, great, now Satan’s causing trouble too, what’s next, cooperation between the two sides—’

Crowley completely ignored the Archangel’s rambling and asked, ‘What’s that got to do with me?’

He had an idea. He didn’t like the idea. He wanted to kick it all the way to Mars.

‘Well, I said I could do it myself, he could trust me[18], but no, for some reazzon he wants _you_ ,’ ze answered, offended but obedient, and well, wasn’t that progress?

And, wait, no, scratch Mars. The Kasterborous constellation would do much better.

Next to him, Aziraphale gasped almost inaudibly, putting the pieces together. He looked at him, pleading and worried and angry and _soft_. Crowley couldn’t love him more.

‘No,’ he said. He shook his head for emphasis. ‘I’m not going down there. No. Never again.’

‘He sayzz he’s collecting his favour.’

* * *

1 As a snake, he knew what he was talking about.[✿]

2 It was burgundy, silken, and had a Chinese dragon embroidered on the back. She—Ashtoreth—had stolen it from Harriet Dowling two days before she quit. That was Sunday, six days before the End of the World. A demon had her duties, you see, and Mrs Dowling deserved more than one missing dressing gown if her amazing parenting skills were any proof.[✿]

3 If you thought Crowley owned a driver’s licence or even knew how to _drive_ a car with his actual _hands and feet_ , you were giving the demon too much credit. Nah, why would he bother when he could just _will_ the Bentley into getting him wherever he needed to go? He didn’t even have his hands on the wheel most times, for Lucifer bloody Morningstar’s sake.[✿]

4 God would deny and all allegations about Her having to do something with that. The one time last week, sure, but not this. No. She didn’t care all that much. Must’ve been someone else.[✿]

5 He had started to smoke as a part of the demonic aesthetic, roughly five centuries back. It didn’t do much in the course of calming him down or making him _feel_ things, but he couldn’t get cancer from it either, so he shrugged and occasionally lit a fag. Sometimes a little stronger. And sometimes, Aziraphale joined him. No harm done, he said, in inhaling some plant smoke every now and then. He couldn’t argue with that.

Crowley was excellent at growing _Cannabis sativa_ , too. It listened to his advice like anything.[✿]

6 He called ten days ago to ask about interior design, and then again with inquiries about a certain group of Dukes, and Crowley was beginning to associate Lucifer’s voice with Strong Annoyance. No respect for boundaries, he had.[✿]

7 The answer was, of course, nothing, but maintaining the appearance was vital. It wasn’t always a good thing—not when one could quickly find oneself smitten by an Archangel who thought too highly of himself and wasn’t against using the same trick twice. This time, it would have a _different_ result, and that wasn’t a thing either of them needed anyone else to know. Apart from Lucifer and Amenadiel, of course.

Little did they know that Lucifer had a different opinion on the matter and could tell them how to prevent the result from turning out differently should they ever find themselves in the same unfortunate situation. Crowley would have found out, had Gabriel not interrupted their morning so rudely and had Crowley not dropped the phone, but that’s only a _would_ clauseand will not be theorised about any further.[✿]

8 He overheard Aziraphale shouting and could make out the word _Gabriel_ , and was therefore also pissed on principle and slightly worried. Only the frustration got out.[✿]

9Although he wasn’t far from dripping actual venom from his hidden fangs. He generally wasn’t a venomous snake, more of a constrictor, but he could be when the occasion called him to be. Like now, for instance.[✿]

10 Imagine the tiny gap between two fingers that aren’t quite touching yet, but go one hundredth of a millimetre further and they _would_. This close.[✿]

11 Trust Gabriel to continue to scoff at anything human and not even bother to learn the language properly.[✿]

12 Where would be the fun in that, otherwise? Watching everyone figure things out on their own was the whole purpose of things. That was the _test_. And God wasn’t just testing the humans, or the extraterrestrials, no. God was testing _everyone_ , and so far the only beings even a tiny bit close to figuring things out were Adam Young, Amenadiel, and the entire race of people from the planet Arcturus. The Universe liked doing things alphabetically.

Yes, aliens existed, boohoo. Did you really think that Earth, 6023-years-old Earth, was the only inhabited planet? What would God even _do_ during the 13 billion years in which the Universe existed, play catch with the angels? No, Earth was the _youngest_ planet, and therefore wasn’t approved for interplanetary contact yet. But it had proved itself mature enough to realise its feeble existence and do something about it last year, and so the forms were due any century now. Think of it as a baby giraffe who has to spend some time in the solitary company of its mother before it joins the herd, if you’re one for metaphors.[✿]

13 Brothers were, at heart, always brothers.[✿]

14 That was a lie. He has, during the Apocawhoops.[✿]

15 Which would certainly be appreciated in Ascot, despite itself, or a royal event of some kind. Sometimes, humans had less dignity than demon princes, and it was frankly horrifying.[✿]

16 _Slightly worried_ turned into _fuck if Gabriel’s involved it can’t be good_ and so he sent Beelzebub to check on the situation. He Googled the coordinates of their cottage, told zir the brief contents of the phone call Crowley didn’t pay attention to, and sent zir up. Orders were orders.[✿]

17 The truth was that a bunch of humans, some of whom were and some of whom weren’t His Regular Humans, convinced him that it wouldn’t do any harm to leave for a bit now that things were somewhat stable, which he’d told them over text. And as fate would have it, they were going to a private screening of _Avengers: Endgame_ in LA in six days and planned to have a party at the LUX later and he, being a reckless idiot, decided to not only organise it but also come and spend the night. Mostly because he _really_ missed Chloe and this could be their only chance in a while. Also because Hell _has_ been working nicely for over a week now, and no one dared question his authority. You know. Stable.[✿]

18 Not that demons could go around trusting each other.[✿]


	8. in which demons just can't be on time

So far, Lucifer’s Plan has been working quite smoothly, to most of Hell’s denizens’ surprise.

Mainly Lucifer’s.

The dreadful, demotivating posters have disappeared from the walls. Beelzebub has miracled all pipes closed and functional. Dagon has got another office and expanded the shelves so no files lay on the floor. Lucifer has got computers[1] for everyone and _paid_ them to attend a seminar on how to use them. The outer façade of the Upper Management building has received a new outfit. Orders to repair the rest of the capital and the often-crumbled city walls in a similar fashion have been issued.

But then Crowley had to go and be late for his coronation as Temporary King of Hell.

Lucifer checked the ancient clock on the wall, made silent and good as new with a miracle, for the fifth time in seven minutes and wanted to let his head drop on the hardwood of his desk.

He didn’t, because that would hurt more than it would make him feel better.

Instead, he picked his phone up from said desk; he should probably run his latest bad decision by his friends, too, not just the belated disaster of a besotted demon.

He hoped the reason for his tardiness was something fun involving that angel of his[2], at least. Lucifer loved Fun Things. Being late because of Fun Things was frequently on the menu where he was concerned, and about the only thing excusable without so much as a wave of one’s hand.

•

**Messenger**  
😈  
**26** **Apr at 5:18 pm**

**You**  
the leaders[3] have convinced  
me and I will be coming back  
to la to see the movie

but ONLY to see the movie

and the afterparty, obviously

 **Chloe  
**Lucifer, that’s

do you have any idea how much I’m  
looking forward to having you back

even for a moment

 **Ella  
**we do thats for sure

 **Maze**  
make the most of it u stupid lovebirds,  
I cant listen to the stupid whining  
anymore

 **Eve  
**niceeeeeee

 **Amenadiel  
**That’s great, brother

How is it going down in Hell?

 **You  
**rather splendidly

the demons are under control for  
now, neron has been sentenced to  
death by holy water

but the iron throne is quite  
boring and you have NO IDEA  
how much I’m looking forward  
to a proper party ;)

and seeing you, chloe

 **Chloe  
**I can about imagine

like I said, I look forward to seeing  
you too, Lucifer <3

 **Ella  
**big mood luce

 **Dan  
**well I don’t miss u that’s for sure

 **Chloe  
**Dan, be nice

 **Linda**  
The only shame is that we can’t  
be there with our little angel

 **Maze**  
but you’ll come to the party after  
right

it’s not the same without my bff

 **Eve  
**and I wanna see amen party

 **Amenadiel  
**We’ll see

 **Ella  
**YES

 **Maze  
**cool

 **You  
**this will be unforgettable 😈

 **Amenadiel**  
Are you sure things are stable  
enough for you to leave, though?  
Absolutely sure?

 **You**  
it’s been 2 weeks, brother,  
worry not

and I asked crowley to keep an  
eye on things, u know how they  
are with him

except he’s bloody late

can’t have a punctual demon, I  
swear

 **Maze**  
he’s probably slithering to hell or  
smth, flash bastard

 **Amenadiel  
**You collected your favour.

 **You  
**well, yes

 **Chloe  
**who’s Crowley?

 **Linda**  
Yeah, I have NO idea what this is  
about

 **Eve  
**he’s the serpent of eden lol

u could say an old friend

 **Ella  
**crowley like from

spn

what

 **You  
**he’s a different bloke

genderfluid person

altogether

bloody supernatural

although he is going to be king  
for a while here 🤣

 **Ella  
**omg

 **Amenadiel**  
Well, that… actually sounds like  
a reasonable plan, Luci

 **You**  
thank you, came up with it all  
by myself, too[4]

 **Linda  
**Oh no

 **You  
**ye of little faith, linda

just stop by the club later and  
you’ll see all will be fine

•

There was a knock on the door. Only one demon ever bothered to knock.

Finally.

Crowley sauntered into Lucifer’s office, oozing bravery and discomfort and absolutely no shame for showing up 25 minutes after five, the designated meet-up time. His hair was shorter than Lucifer remembered it, not even brushing his shoulders. The jacket was new, too, if his memory served him well[5].

Lucifer, sharing a similar habit of always trying to appear nonchalant, didn’t let his annoyance be known and said, ‘Ah, there you are, darling.’

In one swift move, he got up from his brand new chair, which was most definitely not from Hell IKEA[6], and trod to meet the demon. He put an arm around his shoulders and produced an accustomed charming smile.

Not because he was happy to see Crowley, but because seeing Crowley meant getting a bit of a breather and getting to see _Chloe_. That was the absolute, full truth.

‘Didn’t have much of a choice, did I?’ said Crowley, something bitter in his voice. His usually fluid, serpentine form tensed. He was most definitely _not_ happy to see Lucifer—and that was just offensive, honestly, _this_ handsome face?

But then again, the last time they met[7] was on the other side of the End of All Things, and that wouldn’t show anyone in a positive light. The texts and calls proved as much.

Also, Hell wasn’t exactly a welcoming environment. You can imagine.

‘Now, now, this is nothing more than a friendly visit,’ Lucifer assured him. He gave him a push and guided him towards the desk, which wasn’t so much covered as decorated with blueprints and a neat stack of files. As it should be. ‘I trust you travelled well?’

His voice conveyed just about the right amount of sarcasm for Crowley to know he was being criticised. He elected to keep his serpent mouth shut about it and mumbled, ‘Wouldn’t call anything Down Here friendly.’

His expression was unreadable behind the sunglasses. He was right, too.

‘Well, it’s a turn of phrase. Anyway—’ Lucifer let go of Crowley and showed him his temporary kingdom, paperwork and all. ‘—I think you might actually enjoy this.’

Crowley threw a sceptical look his way. He could tell.

‘Look,’ Lucifer sighed. ‘Let’s try again, shall we? I’m sorry if I’m inconveniencing you with my reckless decisions, as everyone loves pointing out, but there’s more to it than that. You said it yourself,’ he gestured at the various sketches and blueprints and lists, another excited smile forming on his lips, ‘you’re the smartest demon in the area!’

Sceptical turned to puzzled. His eyebrows went through a series of flexes. ‘Wait, so you want me to—to—’

‘Make notes on what to improve. Redecorate this building by your own desires. Destroy the rest of the old stuff. Manipulate the demons into doing it. I don’t care how, I just need it done, and you,’ he jabbed a finger into his T-shirt, ‘are my guy.’

Who said one couldn’t multitask during one’s Hell visit? There was only so much damned architect souls could do, and Crowley did miracles like anything.

His eyebrows shot up to the ceiling. He seemed to use them a lot, having to compensate for the sunglasses. ‘You want to modernise Hell,’ Crowley said. His words carried like an oxymoron.

‘I’m sure we can all agree it’s more behind the times than Aziraphale’s clothes.’

Crowley didn’t know whether he should frown or smirk at that and decided on a weird mix of both. ‘Never thought I’d live to see the day,’ he admitted. ‘Blimey.’

Lucifer didn’t either, to be honest. But here they were.

‘For aeons, I hated it here,’ he said. It was an understatement. ‘I hated everything about it, the darkness, the smell, the cries of the tortured souls. I never asked for any of this.’ He walked to a cabinet and took a bottle with two glasses. ‘But the only thing anyone ever seemed to care about was making sure everyone was miserable, yours truly most of all, and keeping me here no matter how many times I tried to leave. So I decided to put an end to that, see how God likes it.’

One more rebellion to add to the collection. Defying the Divine Plan[8] once again.

By trying to be more like Michael from _The Good Place_ than the Great Beast and outsmarting everyone, no less. Because that was what he spent the past week thinking about—this way, everyone would still be punished, just differently, and most might not even realise it. They would think they were on a path to better eternity and therefore come to love his rule and respect it even in his absence.

But that was the funny part.

He’s mentioned it before, hasn’t he? There were different ways of torture than physical or mental agony. The Devil knew that better than anyone.

Working with technology? A new skill some very old dogs would need to learn and then spend hours upon hours _actually working_ because as mentioned above, _someone_ needed to transfer all the materials into electronic form. And there were tonnes of materials.

Clean Hell? They’d have to mind their own hygiene habits, break their routines, and become slaves to housework just like the rest of the universe[9].

Comfortable furniture? They’d come to love Earth-made things and get closer to what they had been adamant on destroying.

No clutter? They’d be reminded of Heaven, the old home they hated so much, every day.

An actual, functioning chain of command and court of justice? That spoke for itself.

Not to mention even _more_ paperwork that would come out of the whole modernisation deal, and that he as King wouldn’t deal with on principle and give to Dagon and her minions instead. Every chair and lightbulb and tile had to be accounted for!

Hell, after all, was not unlike a large business company the CEO of which went on a prolonged business trip and intended never to return until years later his family convinced him to reclaim it and fix the mess the employees had made because _honestly_ , we need to show the world we still have it, and we can’t do that when our financial records don’t match, the building is falling down, and everyone’s on strike all the time.

It was all bureaucracy.

Lucifer brought the glasses to the desk and laid them on top of some receipts. Crowley shuffled through the sketches, inspecting the furniture designs and decorative tile patterns. He paused at the scribbles of _black and gold for the walls_ and hummed in approval, licking a finger to turn the page.

Then he registered his presence, and his words.

‘Oh, I can relate,’ was what he said, some seconds later and a little awkward. ‘But you can’t know what the Almighty wants or doesn’t want. That’s the whole _point_.’

‘You think I don’t bloody know that?’ Lucifer willed the liquid to pour into the tumblers with more vigour than usual. ‘I wouldn’t even know about the End of Days if you lot didn’t tell me. That really shows what an amazing parent we have.’ He turned his gaze upwards and lifted his glass in a mock toast. ‘Have a gold star!’

His voice carried through the room and left an unpleasantly tingling echo.

Crowley took the other glass in his slim fingers and sniffed at its contents. Single malt scotch. Then he put his other hand in his pocket and copied Lucifer’s gesture—all the way to removing his sunglasses so he could look God in the metaphorical eye. ‘I’ll drink to that.’

They did.

Lucifer cleared his refreshed throat and said, ‘So, Crowley.’

Crowley shifted uncomfortably under his gaze and became promptly interested in the engraving on the glass as if he turned back time[10] and forgot about their little chat. ‘Yeah?’

‘Look at me. I won’t bite,’ Lucifer laughed. ‘I might, but I won’t.’

And—was he imagining it in the dim light, or was there really a blush creeping up Crowley’s face? Oh dear, that demon really was something else.

‘I told Beelzebub and all the Princes to listen to anything you say with _no_ exceptions,’ he continued before the situation could evolve any further, ‘and you’ve got free reign over the city for the night, as long as no one causes a riot.’

He really, really, _really_ hoped Crowley could handle it even if they did, because if he didn’t, it would be on his head, and he’d have to execute more demons, which he _really_ didn’t want to do. It took a lot of effort and still made his stomach turn.

‘Remind me why I’m doing this, again?’ asked the one in question, after making a disgruntled noise.

‘Because my friends up there need me and I couldn’t find anyone better suitable for the task,’ Lucifer said and patted him on the back. ‘Now, I should really be going. Got any more questions?’

‘Eh, not really.’ Hands still in his pockets, Crowley glanced around the office. He blew a raspberry. ‘I suppose this place really could do with some houseplants…’

‘Plants produce oxygen, excellent! We need something other than sulphur in the air.’

Even though Lucifer would never admit it, he was enormously glad that the same brilliant mind that came up with the M25 back in the 1970s was employing its talents on making Hell a better place[11] now.

He didn’t have a sword at hand, so his arm had to do. ‘I hereby crown you Temporary King of Hell,’ Lucifer said, watching Crowley force a smile. ‘Don’t die, text me updates, and tell me: is this suit all right or should I change? I’m not sure about the shirt.’

He tugged at his cuffs and showed himself to him. He was wearing a black Prada suit as usual, but he really wasn’t confident about the style of the lapels and the combination with the silken aubergine shirt.

Crowley eyed him in a way that told him he was trying really hard to stay objective about this and tell himself that no, Lucifer _wasn’t_ unearthly attractive[12]. Lucifer contemplated taking a picture. Before he could take his mobile, though, Crowley snapped to a more neutral expression and said, ‘Nah, I think it’s fine. Silk, is that?’

‘Indeed,’ Lucifer said, pleased that he noticed. ‘Very observant. I like that in a guy.’

He winked.

Crowley looked positively abashed. ‘Let’s not—let’s no go there. Please. Just go.’

With a satisfied laugh and a vague wave, Lucifer swaggered out of his office, leaving the stunned demon to his devices. It was only a step or eight to the lift that would take him up, and he was never so glad about the short distance.

He waltzed out to the lobby two minutes later[13] and waved a hello at the two angelic and demonic clerks chatting away by the vending machine, where the insignificant demon whose name Lucifer couldn’t seem to recall was buying a sandwich for dinner.

He headed towards the LA door, situated between Tokyo and New York doors, and found himself standing on a plaza about two miles off LUX right there and then.

He breathed in the unmistakable scent of the ocean mixed with corndogs and churros from a stand nearby and the not-so-fresh-but-good-enough air and was, finally, home.

•

The film was sad.

By the end of it, the company was sadder.

Thankfully, Lucifer was there to save the day by providing drinks and entertainment for everyone for as long as they wanted to and as long as no one broke anything particularly valuable. He closed LUX down for the night and put up a _private party_ sign, so no stray humans bothered them. Music flowed all night, and dancers waved in its rhythm for more than half of it.

There weren’t even any horrible disasters occurring for the most part[14]. He’d call it a success.

Anything that didn’t happen in Hell and/or involve demons who weren’t Maze or Crowley was a success in his books, though, so that statement should be taken with a pinch of salt.

Speaking of which, he should probably check whether things didn’t go even further south than they should Downstairs. Excusing himself from a conversation with Amenadiel and Linda[15], he took his mobile.

There were three texts. He automatically assumed the worst and took to hastily scrolling up the messaging app.

Unnecessarily so, it turned out. All they said was:

  1. miracled the black n gold tiles on and added some red ones too, looks great
  2. I made beelzy help me miracle some plants ze was PISSED about having to obey and all fussy about PLANTS in HELL it was hilarious
  3. theyre giving me lots of of weird looks but no riots. still hate it here tho



He took a picture of the full club and sent it back with a caption of _take inspiration_.

Then he pocketed the phone and went to find Chloe. She was why he was there, and while they hugged and kissed and sat next to each other at the cinema and exchanged noncommittal small talk, they were yet to share a proper moment alone.

He found his favourite human in a flock of other women and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. She smiled at him, and that smile could make a hundred more years in Hell bearable. He nodded at her friends. ‘Will you excuse us, ladies? I’d like to borrow the detective here for a while.’

Ella shot him a knowing wink and patted his arm rather drunkenly. ‘Sure, dude, what are you even waiting for? Go!’

The others raised their glasses with excited cheers, and Lucifer was _sure_ he heard something along the lines of _waste no time and go and get it!_

That will be on the programme later, oh sure enough. Right now, he just needed to sit down somewhere quiet and forget about Hell Administration. Or maybe talk his mind out of it, as Linda would say.

He missed their therapy sessions too.

He didn’t need them anymore[16], but he missed them all the same. He could use someone as her alongside him, but alas, honest and selfless therapists who put everyone else above themselves and gave birth to Nephilim babies didn’t usually end up in his kingdom.

Billie Eilish was wrong. Only _some_ good girls went to Hell[17].

‘Enjoy the night, never regret it in the morning,’ Lucifer told the company. He took Chloe by her shoulders and led her away from the turmoil of the club. His heart was doing Things it shouldn’t do around her and it all manifested itself as a broad grin on his face and an impossible hammering in his chest.

‘Shall we go upstairs?’ he shouted so she’d hear him over the loud music.

For some unknown, taunting reason, the song switched to the aforementioned singer. _bad guy_ , to be precise.

‘Yeah,’ Chloe said more quietly. He wouldn’t hear her weren’t it for his celestial senses. ‘Honestly, I’ve had enough of all these drunk nerds crying about the movie.’

Tony Stark might have been Lucifer’s favourite Avenger, but too much was too much. He agreed.

They took the lift up to the penthouse. Lucifer took Chloe’s hand and led her to the balcony. A little past ten, the sky was dark and the city shone below, bustling and live in a manner Hell could never be. LA was streetlights, cars, people, ocean, food, _life_.

Hell was damp, cramped, smelly, dead, and decidedly void of transportation vehicles. You either had wings or dragged through mud when you happened to be so unfortunate as to have to cross to the outskirts, not to mention another city.

Another thing to add to his forever-growing list.

‘You have no idea how much I missed this,’ he said. It’s only been nineteen days and definitely seemed like more.

Chloe played with their joined hands and looked down at the world underneath. Her mind spun at miles on end, trying to imagine what he has been going through. She couldn’t. But, ‘Actually, I do, Lucifer.’

He looked at her. She was the most beautiful thing on this earth, with her hair down and slightly dishevelled and wearing what was Not a Work Jacket.

‘Maybe I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like in Hell, but I know how you feel. All too well, in fact.’

A memory of disappearing on her for months without an explanation more than _once_ all because he was an emotionally constipated fool flashed before his eyes. He wasn’t proud of that one.

‘I’m the one who has to spend my nights up here without you.’

Lucifer took her face in his hand and ran a thumb across her cheek. She leant into the touch. ‘Chloe,’ he breathed. ‘I wish there was another way. I really do, and I’m working on it.’

‘But you still have to go back to that—that _awful_ place even though we just started working together for real and—and have this beautiful thing,’ she said, close to tears. Lucifer mentally cursed everyone who made this happen, who did this to his love, and God most of all. ‘I know,’ she continued with a paradoxical sad smile. ‘You’re the King, and you need to show your people their place. And we got this chance today. But I still wish you didn’t have to go.’

‘I’m pretty sure they all wish the same.’ Lucifer couldn’t help but snort at that. It was more melancholy than anything. ‘Which is exactly why I have to. I can’t just leave Crowley with the demons there; I’m not a complete monster.’

There.

Wasn’t that hilarious? Lucifer, The Great Adversary, sacrificing his own happiness and doing the selfless thing for the sake of another fallen angel, whom he could just as well leave on the Throne to simmer and deal with Things but won’t because he had a life too. It wouldn’t be fair if he took that away from him just to gain it for himself.

Free Will was like that sometimes. It didn’t make sense to him.

‘No, you’re not,’ Chloe smiled and pressed a kiss on his hand. ‘You’re an angel.’

He expected her to say _good guy_. He didn’t expect _that_.

His wings felt like switching into automated mode and manifesting themselves. He forbade that.

‘Oh, I—’

She kissed him before he could get anything else out, and his brain sort of short-circuited. His hands grabbed her waist and legs guided them inside, towards the king-sized bed that truly belonged to a King. Then he couldn’t hold his wings in any longer and unfurled them as he collapsed on top of the covers, laughing and with arms full of beloved human.

She stared at them in newfound awe and instinctively reached out to touch. Before her fingers touched the shining beauty of his feathers, she paused and asked, ‘Can I?’

It was adorable. Again, his heart Felt Things, and those Things reverberated through his wings and lower and oh. Nice.

‘You can do anything, Chloe,’ he said, never lying. ‘I’m yours for the night, and for as long as you’ll wait for me.’

She slowly lowered her hand and gently ran through his feathers. He hadn’t realised how long he has yearned for a gentle touch. You couldn’t get that in Hell[18]. ‘You’ll stay long enough to have breakfast with Trixie and me?’ she asked, leaning closer.

‘If the little urchin wishes me to, I will,’ said Lucifer. He could stay for lunch, too, and dinner, and another night. He could stop time if he really, _really_ pushed himself. All Angels of the First Sphere could, fallen or otherwise.

But that would be daring to go too far. Even he knew that.

‘Then I’ll wait for as long as I have to,’ Chloe said, and brought their lips together once more.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t be too long.

* * *

1 They all dated somewhere around 2008, because any technology newer than ten years had a history of blowing up as if under the hands of Newt Pulsifer, and obviously didn’t connect to the poorly WiFi, but as far as filing went, they worked almost as well as Aziraphale’s old machine. On top of that, cataloguing all the old records was an exceptional punishment. He stuck it to Dromos and Squee’s lot.[✿]

2 It wasn’t. Not in that way, anyway, but Lucifer could hardly have an idea of how far they were—or weren’t—in their relationship. He was _sure_ that they were married before Crowley disproved that theory, so he was _hardly_ an expert. Look at him and Chloe and four years of mutual pining and emotional constipation. And that wasn’t even _close_ to what Crowley and Aziraphale had.[✿]

3 That is, superhero-team leaders who sort of ~~adopted him~~ accepted him in their midst and genuinely cared about his opinion on things when he wasn’t talking too dirty or being condescending. And invited him and his humans to film premieres. Again, Bruce Wayne and the like.

If the reader is wondering _how_ exactly they know each other, since it’s been mentioned a few times and never explained because we’re trying to avoid DC Comics here, and since we’re failing that already: they had an affair once upon a time. It lasted about two weeks. Bruce might or might not have known who Lucifer really was. He didn’t care, because he had other things in mind.[✿]

4 That was not necessarily true. It was all, like everything else in the Universe, a part of the Ineffable Plan.[✿]

5 Celestial beings were many things, but never forgetful. They had bigger brains than _whales_.[✿]

6 IKEA furniture did, in fact, originate in Hell. You can guess whose idea it was to make cupboards with unpronounceable names that took hours to assemble and made all the parties involved _very_ irritated. And there was always that one screw that fit nowhere and led to someone stepping on it.

Unfortunately, it was also the only kind of furniture available to furnish Hell’s offices—until two weeks ago, anyway. That was when Lucifer got a Finnish interior designer to draw a few sketches and miracled them into existence. His new office chair was not unlike the one Crowley kept in his flat, only black and properly upholstered.[✿]

7 Sort of. The last time they met properly face to face was in 1939.[✿]

8 Not true. Nothing anyone ever did could defy the Divine Plan. Stopping the Apocalypse, sending Lucifer back to Hell when he was at his lowest and most determined to get out for good, making sure the particular cottage was on sale, demoting Gabriel so he’d have to go there and cross paths with Beelzebub once again—everything was a part of it.

There were many ways to make Her children grow out of the teenage rebellion phase and get along, sure. It was just that this one, the long, indirect, prophecy books-involving one, was the most fun. For Her, anyway.[✿]

9 Unless they had robots do everything. There were planets like that.[✿]

10 He could have. It was the Archangels’ speciality, time manipulation. It was terribly exhausting, though, and to be perfectly honest, he didn’t think of any such thing, not since the body swap act. His mind was Otherwise Occupied right now, mostly by being in Lucifer’s office, drinking Lucifer’s scotch, and being in Hell, far away from his angel, with the task of _redecorating_.[✿]

11 Only for the demons, though. You couldn’t go easy on the humans who thought they deserved punishing for their actions. What they wanted to get, they would get, too.[✿]

12 Which he was, thank you very much. Literally.[✿]

13 He was accompanied by atrocious lift music the whole time and didn’t forget to add that to the list of things that needed fixing. He thought that perhaps some piano pieces would work nicely.[✿]

14 You should understand that the club was _full_. Over 100 people, human and non-human alike. Bruce Wayne’s friends and the friends of his friends. And they were all drunk. So that was quite a feat.[✿]

15 They had given Charlie to Dan since he was already with Trixie for the night and one more child couldn’t hurt him, now could it, and eventually came, mostly on Maze and Eve’s insistence. One of them immediately came to regret it. You can guess who. No, they didn’t have wings.[✿]

16 That was what he convinced himself was the truth, while really, not a hundred years of therapy with Linda could get him through all of his issues, which he _still_ refused to face. If Lucifer was anything Up There, it was God’s Most Stubborn Child. Even more so than Aziraphale.[✿]

17 She wasn’t so wrong about the rest of [the song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s_IwrqvM618), however. When God first heard it, a cold shiver ran down Her metaphysical spine. Did the Universe already get to B when it came to figuring things out? Because the lyrics were uncannily close to the truth about Earth, the Apocalypse, Heaven, and Her Plan.[✿]

18 He could get it on Earth, but if he pulled out his wings in front of a one-night stand and asked them to preen them, they’d most probably run away and he’d be left unsatisfied in an empty bed. So.[✿]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a casual reminder not to take anything here seriously. this is _not_ how i think series 5 of lucifer will go _at all_ , but one can dream and write a crackfic about it, right? 
> 
> if you're interested in seeing how the party _actually_ went [read here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17384027/chapters/45455764#workskin). and maybe the chapter before that; it's where the first half of the messenger conversation is copy-pasted from
> 
> and maybe the chapters after that, too ;) fyi az and crowley first show up in chapter 75, and you'll see lots of stuff that won't make it here ;)


	9. in which crowley can't wait to get home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapters keep getting longer and longer i swear it's not on purpose
> 
> also i finished this like an hour ago rather than slept on it and edited some more the next day, precisely cos it's so long, but what can you do. but i promise angst and fluff both and hopefully humour too :)

Crowley wasn’t having a good time.

Or, well. He was having _half_ a good time.

Ordering filthy demons, who had been eager to see him turn into a great speck of nothingness in the now infamous bath not a year ago, and who grit their teeth every time he issued a command that they didn’t agree with but had no other choice but to obey, around wasn’t the worst pastime in the Universe.

He flashed a smug grin around as he showed them an excruciatingly long and detailed[1] PowerPoint presentation on the benefits of keeping nocturnal, tropical plants around. With bonus information on what they required and what they were called. In Latin.

How brilliantly _bored_ they were, and simmered in their own juice under the light of the brand new strip lights. It made the Patron Demon of Mild Inconveniences ever so satisfied.

_You shunned my brilliant ideas, scoffed at any innovations I brought to this place, and turned on me as a traitor when I figured out your whole lot knew bugger-all about the Divine Plan, and now you have to listen to my every whim and learn how those computer things work._

It was, in its own core, revenge.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t also absolutely petrified.

It seeped into your very soul, Hell. It was _created_ to make one’s skin prick up at every move of every shadow, to make one constantly fear for their back, to make one forget what daylight looked like and get lost in forms and queues that never ended. Wailing and screaming and ash were everywhere. Demons and odd creatures relentlessly milled about all around you. Someone was always listening.

Lucifer might try and make it look more acceptable, but the place itself would always resist. It was fluid and perpetually changing, deep and shallow and _resistant_. There was a reason you couldn’t bring new tech into Hell. It would change into something two decades old when left alone for long enough, just like every tape and CD changed into Queen in Crowley’s Bentley after a fortnight.

Heaven was steady. Hell was like Daedalus’ Labyrinth. It had no end, everyone got lost in its circles, and one could barely get out. It was designed to keep the Devil in. It didn’t like him being on Earth again, and Crowley could _feel_ it in his corporation’s bones.

It was why the demons grew restless in Lucifer’s absence, and it was why they inevitably walked on a path towards history repeating itself.

Crowley hoped Lucifer has really changed into a more relatable being full of love and innuendos, rather than the Beast he had become after the Fall, and wouldn’t do the selfish thing and stay on Earth. He certainly didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out whether he’d be murdered after a week of being Temporary King or just six days.

But he was an Optimist, capital O and all[2], and he would never allow something _not_ to work out well for him in the end—so he carried on with his presentation and took fleeting pleasure in making Hastur squirm and Dagon scribble notes in disgust and contempt that only _just_ gave way to the desire to be chosen as employee of the month for the twenty-second time in a row.

He thought of Aziraphale the whole time and the promise Crowley wasn’t sure he’d made: that he’ll never let him go back ever again, not after what he’d seen when wearing Crowley’s skin.

After the hours-long ordeal was over, and upstairs, Lucifer was well into partying and coming up with ideas for what to do in bed later, Crowley miracled some hibiscuses and snake plants[3] into existence and got did his best Cool, Smooth, and Manipulative voice to croak out a command at Beelzebub to do the rest for him.

Lucifer’s will was Lucifer’s will, so ze would have to obey, and he could take a snap of zir unimpressed face and be on his merry way to drink Lucifer’s alcohol in quiet.

And maybe give him those updates.

He _did_ like the new colours on the walls. It was very bare-and-luxurious-modern-flat-in-Mayfair with a dash of glitter to liven it up and annoy everyone who had to work within those walls to no end—because when it came down to it, demons were as allergic to colours as angels. Just the other way around.

It came from essentially sharing 100% of the same genome.

He slumped down into the throne-chair, exhausted from standing on his feet for so long and the crushing ambience of the Underworld, and miracled more scotch into the glass that remained on the table after the awkward interaction. None disappeared from the decanter.

Then he thought it definitely should, because he was petty like that sometimes, and the scotch changed its mind and decided to obey the laws of physics after all.

He sent three texts and sipped at his drink. Then he reached into another dimension for a gel pen[4] and wrote some notes over the already existing ones, about riling teambuilding activities[5] and glass doors and paintings for the walls.

Modern and making no sense, of course.

He was Tired and Bored and Anxious and Alone and hours passed.

It was 2 a.m. in LA now.

Crowley grudgingly accepted four requests for an audience and listened to blabber about insufficient room for torture loops in the lawyer section, lack of budget necessary to pay the already underpaid underlings, stolen weapons between neighbouring Marquises and subsequent discorporation of both parties, and permissions to organise hellhound fights.

He also found out about a new hole in the city walls and a Mexican wave of complaints about the new design and would rather slither under the chair and nap until it was over, because he couldn’t care less.

But he couldn’t, and hated that he couldn’t.

He told the demons to fuck off and try and develop a solution of their own that didn’t involve more discorporation or murder once in a while. Learn from humans. And leave the request forms on the table, if you please.

He was not built for Hell, full stop, and you wanted him to run it.

A terrible idea.

That notwithstanding, he fixed the hole with a miracle, because that was the simplest thing he’s heard all day, and fortified the walls while he was at it. Lucifer _had_ told him to redecorate.

The act made him even drowsier. The nap was begging him to take it.

But here was why that would be an even worse idea: if you closed your eyes Down There, even for a minute, even in the King’s office, you might quickly find yourself with a knife sticking from whatever part was closest, or a “throw me into the Phlegethon[6]” kind of note on your back, and someone always made sure to take those literally.

He didn’t need this day to get even worse.

He counted the minutes until he could _truly_ leave the suffocating air that always smelt of brimstone behind for all the days to come and return to his angel.

Because he was _not_ coming back after this. Lucifer had collected his favour, and that was that.

2 a.m. turned into 3 a.m. on the clock, and then 4 a.m., and then it was eight in the morning and the entire building found itself having clean floors and doors that didn’t creak like a pig being led to slaughter every time someone went through.

It was all the Princes’ doing—on Crowley’s clever, mischievous insistence born of 5 a.m. delirium.

Incredibly so, they put a stop to two brewing riots completely on their own. He told Lucifer as much, and got a text that promised the true King would be coming back around ten in return.

He spent the remaining two hours anxiously tapping his foot against the polished obsidian floor and playing Candy Crush Saga with the music on while pretending to listen to more blathering demons go on about increasing rent rates[7] and Souls Secured for Their Master.

Upon which he tried to give them a few pointers on more effective soul-securing, but as demons went, they couldn’t suddenly grow bright overnight. They scowled at him for being blasphemous.

Speak of irony.

Hell would need a thousand years _at least_ to fully pull through the disease called modernisation.

At 10:32 a.m., the dull clink of the lift finally announced Lucifer’s arrival.

There was a _spring_ in the bastard’s step and contagious ecstasy in his face.

Crowley forced a toothy grimace that was neither a smile nor a sneer and snapped his mobile inside a pocket. Not getting up from the chair, he made a vague greeting gesture and said, ‘Welcome back, O Lord.’

Some of Lucifer’s enthusiasm dissipated. He sighed. Crowley felt the weight of his own words. ‘And I was having such a wonderful morning.’

A feeling of Content and a faint strawberry scent made their way onto Crowley’s skin. It felt unbecoming.

He cleared his throat and pointed at the pink gel-adorned files. ‘I drew a few quick ideas, a pointer now and there, some random doodles. Light reading for the rest of your days Down Here.’

Inexplicably, he felt bad about continuing to make the Devil miserable. Then he felt bad about feeling bad, and lost himself in a vicious circle, because demons _should_ like bad feelings; it was their work description.

No, he wasn’t sure whether he grasped his own train of thoughts either.

‘Yes,’ said Lucifer. ‘Excellent. I saw what you did with the place, good wall reinforcements.’ The smile stayed on but lost its spark. ‘Hastur already killed one of the plants.’

‘Bloody Hasssstur,’ Crowley hissed, and wished the Holy Water had dissolved him rather than Ligur for about the gazillionth time. Ligur wasn’t so bad as far as half-witted tempters went. He liked his colour-changing skin and eyes. It reminded him of the disco era.

Then he had an Idea. ‘You know,’ he pointed the atrociously glittering pen at Lucifer, ‘if you promise rewards for keeping the plants alive and watered, let’s say lower rent or some minor promotions, they’ll be right keen on studying botany in no time, and you won’t have to listen to so much boring blabber about this and that problem. Two hellhounds with one stone.’

He pointed at the other stack of notes and official paperwork. It contained all the complaints he’s heard, miraculously convinced into writing everything down by itself like Rita Skeeter’s Quick-Quotes Quill.

Lucifer cocked an eyebrow. ‘That’s not such a terrible idea,’ he admitted, bordering on being impressed. ‘Tell me, what else have you got? And spare _no_ detail.’

With resignation, Crowley put the pen down and grabbed the top folder. ‘So Alistair said he was running out of room for lawyers, and I thought, why not put the barristers and plaintiffs in shared loops, y’know, have them have fun with each other—have you heard of _The Good Place_?’

‘Have you seen the new system I’ve been trying to implement here?’

And, okay. Lucifer liked sitcoms. And had the same ideas. That was interesting.

But not as surprising as it should have been.

Crowley skimmed over all the details his memory has retained despite itself and Lucifer told him about the film and the party and his day[8], and by the end, he came out of it More Tired and Aggravated, but definitely Less Bored and Depressed.

Not _at all_ , merely _less_.

You couldn’t _not_ be Bored and Depressed in Hell. That was, also, one of its myriad functions. Crowley could go on for _years_ about it.

He didn’t have the time. He had to go Home.

‘All right, so.’ He slammed his hands onto the desk, palms down. ‘I told you all I know, and I’d very much like to go home, _if you’d be so kind_.’

The toothy grin was real this time. He didn’t know what came over him, being sarcastic with the Devil, _again_ , and reconsidered his values when Lucifer seemed to pause and contemplate the request.

But then he merely left his hands fall on his knees in a similar manner and said, ‘Ah, of course. A deal is a deal; I shan’t keep you any longer.’

A rock fell from Crowley’s heart and shattered on the dark floor. He got up.

‘I do appreciate the help, Crowley,’ Lucifer continued. He never lied. ‘It really brings me back.’

There was a flashback. Greenery all over, an unimaginably fresh air, not a cloud in the sky. Suddenly, Embarrassment[9] added itself into the mix of Feelings. Of course Lucifer didn’t forget something like that. The Garden, the first time he has ever personally tasked him to do anything for him. And of course he had to bring it up.

‘Right,’ Crowley muttered. ‘Yeah. Sure thing.’

Lucifer, thankfully, didn’t seem to catch on. ‘If I have any questions, I will call you, and I’ll know if you don’t pick up on purpose[10], so don’t try any such thing on me,’ he emphasised, standing up as well. His eyes glistened red for a second. ‘But I won’t force you to go back again unless you give consent. Devil’s honour.’

Luckily for Crowley, he wasn’t the only demon who preferred to stay on Earth. Look at Mazikeen. And she wasn’t even the only one. Every continent had its field agent, and every now and then, someone decided the planet was much better for their complexion than the filthy air of the Underworld and stayed[11]. And Lucifer let them be.

Crowley gave him a sloppy bow and said, ‘Thank you.’ He meant it, too. ‘Not for dragging me here today, but for, y’know. Not being a completely awful boss. My lord.’

‘Oh _shush_ with the lord, darling,’ he scoffed. He patted his shoulder, and Crowley wondered why he kept doing that. He had a theory. Because frankly, everyone in Hell lacked comforting touch. He could sympathise. That didn’t mean he didn’t want him to stop.

He did so two seconds later and said, ‘Off with you, then.’

Crowley nodded once and thinking better of uttering another sarcastic remark, he sauntered out of the blasted office and took the lift up.

The two clerks were chatting again, this time over coffee. A prime example of picking up Earthly habits.

Crowley did a double-take and performed something akin to a blink when he saw an angel and a demon casually interacting like that in the lobby. Yesterday, he only saw the angel, so it shocked him somewhat. Still, he smiled and gave them a wave.

He had no idea Lucifer always did the same.

The demon waved back enthusiastically; the angel initially looked shocked and returned Crowley’s wave with certain reserve but when he seemed to realise who he was and remembered that he was one of the few who didn’t look down on their kind, he tipped his coffee cup in acknowledgment.

Crowley walked out of the London door[12] and found his Bentley, parked in front of the building masquerading as another high-end block of offices dressed in glass and metal. He got in and familiarised himself with the leather seats and smooth interior and responsive engine that got the taste of petrol precisely once all over again. The James Bond sticker still decorated its windshield.

Without his input, the Blaupunkt played a Queen tape when he pulled away from the kerb. _Bohemian Rhapsody_ [13]. His favourite.

It played until the end, and then the Bentley decided it was enough torture for the day and allowed him to listen to a Spotify playlist on his phone. It had everything from Vivaldi to Boney M to The Clash to Hozier to Katy Perry and always chose the exact song he wanted when he enabled the shuffle function.

Crowley rolled the windows down, and let his hair stream and lungs breathe as he drove 90 miles per hour down the A24 towards Worthing[14]. He didn’t care about the cold, not when he would soon be home and able to curl up on the sofa, or the bed, or by the fireplace, and have a hot cup of coffee.

Coffee in Hell was always lukewarm and usually resisted warming miracles. The taste wasn’t half so bad, though. Demons loved dark and bitter things—and yes, the joke about liking one’s coffee as dark as one’s soul did indeed come from the mouth of one of Hell’s denizens.

Yes. It was Crowley. Obviously. He was trying to boost his ego.

In little over 50 minutes, he parked his car in the driveway and plastered his best devil-may-care[15] expression on as he slammed the door and opened another. Before he stepped over the threshold, he inspected the oleander and found it in perfect health and happy to see him.

‘I’m home, angel. You here?’ he called. He toed his boots off and pushed the sunglasses into his hair.

The answer came out of the kitchen in the form of rattling and clinking, together with the smell of slightly burnt shortbread. Then the angel said, ‘Crowley?’

He said it in a Crowley-is-that-really-you? way, hopeful with a dash of disbelief, and the little cogs inside Crowley’s brain clicked. How long _has_ he been gone? He checked the time on his mobile, brow furrowed.

5:37 p.m.

Ah.

He waltzed into the kitchen with an apologetic smile and a surveying glance. He was curious about the smell. And he was right to, too, because has Aziraphale been stress-baking? There were baking trays they didn’t own before stacked on one another on the table unlike files on Lucifer’s desk, the extractor hood was humming with power, and a neat number of scones and American muffins decorated the top of the fridge.

To Crowley’s somewhat amused surprise, there wasn’t any flour on the floor or a mountain of dirty dishes in the sink[16].

His gaze peeled off the baked goods and landed on Aziraphale. He took in all the micro-expressions: relieved, concerned, excited, upset. Then he took in his floral-patterned apron, which was the only part of the kitchen that _did_ contain some flour, his baby blue shirt and customary beige trousers, his fluffy hair.

His limbs refused to listen to his brain and and brought the angel into a hug.

He smelt of butter and warm things and the exact opposite of Hell. What Crowley once disliked on principle became his comfort zone, a break from all the bleary dampness.

Then he said, cockier than he should be, ‘Were you _worried_ about me?’

Aziraphale pulled away and squeezed his hand. He looked past the tone of Crowley’s voice. ‘Of course I was _worried_ , Crowley. How could I not be?’

‘It’s hardly the first time I had an audience with the boss, Aziraphale,’ he said, not convincing _himself_. He pushed the other hand into the shallow pocket of his jeans.

‘No, but it’s the first time you had to go back since, you know. Since the trial.’

_And had to **be** the boss._

He had that on his mind for the entire _day_ and wanted to forget Lucifer and the demons for a while, preferably with a whole muffin in his mouth and a glass of red in hand.

Forget coffee.

‘Were they too barbaric Down There? Did they—oh dear, I hope they didn’t hurt you, I know what the wily demon sort can be like, cruel to no purpose,’ Aziraphale continued, creasing his brow six ways to Sunday. For a second there, he looked ready to face an army. And then he suddenly exclaimed, ‘The biscuits!’ and left Crowley to his contemplation in favour of running to the oven.

Forgoing the oven mitts, he pulled out a tray of something light and lemony.

‘Oh yeah, so cruel. They bored me half to death, with their _complaints_ and _squabbles_ and lack of _brains_ ,’ Crowley said, semi-honest. ‘What have _you_ been doing?’

He slithered to the cupboards and took a bottle of merlot that popped into existence about five seconds prior. On second thoughts, he forgot a glass, too.

Aziraphale offered him the hot biscuits. ‘I thought I’d try my hand at baking,’ he said, the previously concerned expression forming into a light-hearted smile. ‘We ran out of pastry again and you were gone,’ a returning hint of bitterness, ‘so I took to reading a few cookbooks. Wanted to do something, ah, nice.’

Crowley took one and drank it down with a hearty swig of wine. The biscuit was a little too sweet for his taste. He didn’t tell Aziraphale that a) he was a demon and having nice things for him made his stomach upset and b) _he_ was the one who loved desserts and vanilla ice and _he_ would be the one who would have to end up eating all this.

Mainly because he _should_ encourage the Gluttony, really. Also because there were two ways of being sweet and two ways his stomach could be upset.

He took another swig and exhaled. ‘Thanks.’

He didn’t start talking until a bottle and a half later, when he found himself sprawled on the sofa with his jacket on the floor and two blueberry-and-lavender muffins in his belly.

Aziraphale had been infinitely pleased about the pastry development and eaten four, with the comment of how wonderful it will be to make some with the blackcurrants from the garden. Crowley considered threatening the plants into producing _this_ summer rather than the next.

He dug his feet into the angel’s thigh at the other end of the sofa.

‘It’s gettin’ better, but you still can’t find this kinda comfort in Hell,’ he said, apropos of nothing.

Aziraphale looked at him from behind the rim of his glass and lifted his eyebrows. ‘It is?’ he said, once he let his hand with the glass drop. No wine, naturally, spilt on the carpet.

‘I mean,’ Crowley grumbled. He played with a pillow that has fallen onto the floor. ‘Demons, they’re stupid, but they like following orders, being told what to do, all the bloody paperwork…’ he trailed off. ‘I have ideas, y’know?’

‘Heaven is no better, when it comes down to it.’ Aziraphale nursed his wine with that sort of pain that came with understanding. ‘Sadly enough.’

Crowley remembered Gabriel and the Archangels, then and now and at the beginning. ‘I noticed.’

‘So did I.’ Aziraphale placed one hand on Crowley’s socked feet. ‘Are you all right, my dear? I mean really all right?’

‘No,’ he said, the first full truth of the evening. Somehow, he felt completely sober. ‘The atmosphere, it casts you down. Sucks the air out of your lungs. Even if they don’t do anything to you, you feel it. And they didn’t do anything, mind. Orders.’ He drank. Snorted. ‘They just _love_ to provoke.’

‘After they just _threw_ that innocent demon,’ Aziraphale paused at the wording, ‘into the Water.’ He looked Crowley in the eye. ‘I was worried that they’d try to do something to you, with Hellfire, or maybe try to repeat the same trick. After all, their King was away.’

‘Angel,’ Crowley almost whispered. ‘You’re givin’ them too much credit. Sure, it was one of the _worst_ nights in my life and I was anxious as _fuck_ but killing me? Nah. They value the hide on their backs too much for that.’

Aziraphale looked away and fretted about him and downed the rest of his wine. The glass refilled itself.

‘Look at me,’ Crowley said. He did. He _exuded_ Feelings. ‘I’m not going back, ‘kay? It’s over. It’s fine. I survived, ‘cause I’m an old bastard who always does; no matter what shithole I find myself in, I crawl out.’

He couldn’t help but chuckle at his own joke. The alcohol decidedly did _not_ disappear from his system.

‘Hell’s just the lowest, deepest shithole there is,’ he pointed out. Somewhere along the way, he lifted his body up and got closer to Aziraphale. He noticed him studying his face. Or maybe just his lips. ‘So no, ‘m not okay, but that’s nothing getting plastered and sleeping for a day won’t fix.’

He winked.

He was home with Aziraphale and that blessed cat who was Lucifer knew where and more baked goods than they’d care to eat in a week. The anxiety was already melting away.

‘Yes, I suppose you’re right,’ Aziraphale finally said. He was searching for something he didn’t seem to find. Blame the drinks, but Crowley had an idea. ‘And I know that. Didn’t ease my worries, though.’

In the dim light of the lamp, he looked positively ethereal[17].

Having gone through enough bad ideas to stop caring, Crowley decided to try this one out. And see if Aziraphale was thinking what he thought he was thinking.

‘Carpe diem, baby.’

He crossed the rest of the distance and kissed him.

Aziraphale let out a whimper and almost dropped the glass; he recovered just as quickly and pushed back and let out a full-on _wave_ of that syrupy love. It was overwhelming.

The Opposite of Hell, reinvented.

Crowley’s hand found Aziraphale’s hair. His lips opened up, suddenly hungry and forgetting all the food. He needed to drink the feelings down and oh he _was_ right about what he’s been thinking and—

Something scratched at his back.

The cat.

‘Delilah, not _now_ ,’ he groaned once they parted, frustrated because she was clearly sent from _that place_. She pawed at his T-shirt and meowed, demanding attention in her black, yellow-eyed beauty. ‘Shoo, go hunt mice or something.’

She stared.

Crowley didn’t notice Aziraphale’s reddening cheeks and dazed eyes as the angel asked, ‘You named the cat Delilah?’

‘Y’know, after the song?’ His voice definitely wasn’t one octave higher than usual. He grabbed her and threw her on the floor. She gave him the cat equivalent of a side-eye and wisely decided the environment was hostile at the moment. ‘Freddie had a cat named Delilah. Anyway. Erm.’

He ran a hand through his hair nervously.

Aziraphale gave him an amused smile and pulled him into another kiss.

* * *

1 Mostly to his own agony. But that was just the general atmosphere of Hell—eternally bureaucratic and demanding all the proper forms and procedures for everything. Not even he could avoid that if he wished to keep his body after Lucifer came back.[✿]

2 Crowley also didn’t know Lucifer well enough to know never to doubt his word. He didn’t know he was closer to being an angel than Gabriel could be. He didn’t know his heart was soft and strong both and could sacrifice everything for another being.[✿]

3 Because _obviously_ , he was the Serpent of Eden, snake plants were a _must_.[✿]

4 It was pink. Because nothing enraged a demonic clerk more than when the paperwork was done in pink glitter gel pens. Except for orange glitter gel pens.

If you’re wondering what was the customary writing implement, it was a dark green or crimson glitter gel pen. Fountain pens and proper penmanship were for angels and couldn’t be caught dead in Hell. The paperwork had to be done, but it also had to annoy other demons. And you should see Gabriel’s reaction to receiving forms written in smudgy gel scrawl![✿]

5 Let us remind you he had no idea about Cards Against Divinity.[✿]

6 The Phlegethon was one of the five rivers of Hell, together with the Styx, Cocytus, Lethe, and Acheron. It was a stream of coiling fire and blood and lava and boiled the worst souls’ alive—or, well, after-alive. It was the primary source of Hellfire, and while it couldn’t kill or discorporate a demon, when one tripped and fell into it, it stung like a bitch and generally could be described as a Highly Unpleasant Experience. And demons found themselves tripping quite often.[✿]

7 If you thought every demon was assigned a room of their own and didn’t have to endure the trouble of paying for it every month as you do, you were wrong. This wasn’t Heaven. They got a cubicle in a shared office, or a whole office if they ranked a little higher, but if they wished for something as ludicrous as _accommodation_ , they had to pay rent. And it was exceedingly high. Did we say Hell was not meant to be comfortable?[✿]

8 Which had Crowley trying to hide another blush creeping up his cheeks and not think about his boss doing Things with his human—because he didn’t spare any detail either, bless him.[✿]

9 Perhaps you remember Eve claiming the apple was a bad metaphor. That the fruit was more like a banana. Now, take one curious fallen angel and two brand new beings, add one serpent who didn’t know where to draw the line and crawled under the wrong feet into the mix, and figure out the rest. There _were_ Apples of Knowledge of Good and Evil, well enough, but they, just as Crowley, were only the mediators.

All in all, he was the first matchmaker in human history.[✿]

10 This was half a lie. Maybe he could track down whether he was in his mobile’s general proximity, but he wouldn’t be able to tell if he didn’t pick on purpose or because he was too far away/busy/asleep/dirty from gardenwork. He wasn’t the Almighty. But it added weight to his argument.[✿]

11 One of them was Dantalion. Have we mentioned that they had the second-largest win count in CAD? They were a shapeshifter Duke who had more common sense than most and was about the only agreeable demon Crowley knew. They were, at the base of things, sort of friends. He hasn’t heard from them since 1977, though. A shame. They led a nice punk band in London back then, and pulled very clever pranks on the Royal Family.

Lucifer, however, was well aware that their current whereabouts included Washington D.C. and that they went by the name Charlie. They had met at the party.[✿]

12 If you were wondering about those Doors, they were basically interdimensional portals that cut out the middle man and took you straight to your destination without having to travel miles upon miles by wing or car. Star Gates without the Gates. The peak of Heaven and Hell’s collective architectural effort.

There were 18 of them around the lobby, leading to London, Paris, Barcelona, Berlin, Rome, Stockholm, Athens, Cairo, Istanbul, Moscow, Dubai, Beijing, Sydney, Tokyo, Los Angeles, New York, and Rio de Janeiro. Once upon a time, there had been twenty, and the remaining two led to cities that were long wiped under dust and ocean. Yes, one of them had been the capital of Atlantis. Heaven and Hell both stopped paying attention to them after they sunk, recalled their agents, and didn’t send them back even after they heard the people improvised, adapted, and overcame. Or after they heard of a new king, one Arthur Curry, rebuilding the realm after it rose to the surface at the whims of the Antichrist and then sank once again.[✿]

13 He might or might not have something to do with the popularity of the film of the same name. Or the name.[✿]

14 Everyone who headed in the general direction by way of South London usually had to take the M23 and pass a large town called Crawley, situated just by Gatwick Airport. Maybe you’ve heard of it. Crowley would swear he had nothing to do with _its_ name, but that wouldn’t be strictly true.[✿]

15 Quite literally.[✿]

16 Aziraphale immediately miracled any and all mess away. If he hadn’t, it would look precisely as Crowley imagined it so. Angels weren’t meant to run around the kitchen.[✿]

17 Again, literally.[✿]


	10. in which absolutely nothing gets done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the title says it all. this is chaos in true chatfic manner. enjoy.
> 
> to explain the nicknames should someone wonder who is behind them:
> 
> annoying brother - amenadiel  
> maze runner - mazikeen  
> flies all over - beelzebub  
> purple bastard - gabriel  
> lady death - azrael (lucifer version; although they're still the same horseman and angel who showed up in tadfield)  
> charlie's demons - dantalion, aka charlie 
> 
> this one's tricky. if you're not familiar with legends of tomorrow, imagine them as an oc with the face of maisie richardson-sellers and look up the name dantalion. if you ARE familiar with that show, you know who that is, it's just that i personally headcanon them (or her) as this particular demon. it was all in the first fic of the series :)

**04/05/2019**

**thedevil** _created a group_

 **thedevil** _named the group_ 👼👹

 **thedevil** _changed their name to_ **sexy devil**

 **sexy devil** _added_ **annoying brother** , **maze runner** , **flies all over** , **purple bastard** , **lady death** , _and_ **charlie’s demons** _to_ 👼👹

**annoying brother:** Another, Luci?

 **annoying brother:** Why?

 **sexy devil:** I’ve been going through crowley’s notes for the past week and gradually began implementing his ideas

 **flies all over:** fucking plants

 **annoying brother:** You put plants in Hell?

 **purple bastard:** Unbelievable.

 **sexy devil:** he did

 **flies all over:** and _we_ have to _water them_

 **charlie’s demons:** seriously?

 **flies all over:** he promised benefits but its still outrageous

 **sexy devil:** it’s called modernisation

 **sexy devil:** anyway

 **sexy devil:** one of those ideas was a sort of council of detached parties[1], so here you are

 **sexy devil:** not to mention I mentioned making this to god and they said no, so naturally I had to

 **maze runner:** you have NO logic lucifer

 **purple bastard:** What??? The Almighty spoke to you???

 **sexy devil:** once in a while god likes to criticise my decisions over chat[2]

 **flies all over:** what the _hell_

 **purple bastard:** Yeah, what the Hell, we didn’t get a _word_ from God in _decades_.

 **sexy devil:** I didn’t ask for it, did I

 **flies all over:** and call me by my bloody title, boss or not

 **sexy devil:** sorry, prince beelzebub >:)

 **charlie’s demons:** that aside

 **charlie’s demons:** why didnt u just add crowley

 **sexy devil:** I don’t need him right now[3]

 **maze runner:** wait

 **maze runner:** r u charlie as in linda’s son

 **charlie’s demons:** no its your old pal dantalion

 **charlie’s demons:** its a nickname I go by on earth

 **maze runner:** right, THAT charlie[4]

 **annoying brother:** What’s with these nicknames, anyway?

 **sexy devil:** those are my phone contacts

 **annoying brother:** …

 **purple bastard:** Why do you _have_ my phone number, I didn’t _give_ it to you.

 **flies all over:** u gave it to me :)

 **purple bastard:** That was supposed to be a secret, damn it[5].

 **charlie’s demons:** I smell drama

 **charlie’s demons:** anyway whats up, I havent been to hell since good ol’ 77

 **flies all over:** we noticed

 **charlie’s demons:** its not my fault, I got picked up by a bunch of humans who put a binding curse on me

 **charlie’s demons:** I lost my ability to shapeshift for a while

 **charlie’s demons:** and they were time travellers

 **flies all over:** time travellers.

 **purple bastard:** Only we can control Time!

 **sexy devil:** humans discovered time travel in the future and brought it here

 **sexy devil:** I know them, they’re all right

 **charlie’s demons:** they know how to drink and have fun ;)

 **charlie’s demons:** and i love my girlfriend

 **flies all over:** are u dating a _human_

 **charlie’s demons:** yes and its none of ur business

 **flies all over:** you will _respect me_ , duke

 **maze runner:** they’ll do as they please, fly boy

 **maze runner:** we’re the drinking Liking Earth Juice squad

 **maze runner:** part of which is being w humans cuz guess what, so am i

 **sexy devil:** and I

 **lady death:** I’m with Mazikeen.

 **annoying brother:** Yes! Earth is a wonderful place full of undiscovered treasures and beautiful humans and so many traditions and cultures that would be a tremendous waste of Space and Time to destroy, and we’re right to get to know them and be with them.

 **sexy devil:** I couldn’t’ve said it better 👏

 **annoying brother:** I love my human partner and my Nephilim son.

 **charlie’s demons:** gimme a ✋🏾 angel boi

 **annoying brother:** Where do I find the emoticons?

 **maze runner:** fuck’s sake there’s a keyboard for em

 **maze runner:** with a lil smiley face

 **maze runner:** I told u like 20 times already

 **charlie’s demons:** angels, amirite

 **maze runner:** insufferable

 **maze runner:** i’ll protect this bastard with my life

 **annoying brother:** I see it!

 **annoying brother:** ✋

 **charlie’s demons:** wooo u did it

 **purple bastard:** Heaven had such faith in you, Amenadiel, and look at you now. Pathetic.

 **annoying brother:** Gabriel, let me remind you that it was me who gave the Metatron orders to demote you to a desk job.

 **lady death:** And that this is, at the base of things, a part of God’s will and Plan. I can’t pretend to understand it any more than any of you, but Death is eternal. Death sees all. And I do not see anything out of balance in the Universe, so I must assume it is meant to be.

 **sexy devil:** look at maze and linda and amenadiel, happily living together as one big angel/demon/human family

 **sexy devil:** nothing wrong with that, is there?

 **maze runner:** yup, amen and i had sex

 **maze runner:** _multiple times_

 **maze runner:** and nothing exploded other than what _should_ explode ;))

 **charlie’s demons:** I see what you did there :’)

 **purple bastard:** You _what_?

 **annoying brother:** That was a long time ago…

 **maze runner:** remember that threesome w linda like a year back

 **annoying brother:** 😳

 **charlie’s demons:** congrats

 **flies all over:** interesting

 **flies all over:** so the traitors weren’t the only ones _consorting_

 **purple bastard:** It seems like we have to take a look at this.

 **flies all over:** indeed

 **annoying brother:** Don’t you two have each other’s phone numbers?

 **sexy devil:** didn’t you get together to discuss the execution?

 **maze runner:** if anyone’s consorting it’s u

 **purple bastard:** We’re most definitely _not_ , you fiend, those were business transactions.

 **flies all over:** _exactly_

 **charlie’s demons:** riiiiight, gotcha

 **sexy devil:** besides, I’m the one who actually gives orders here, _prince beelzebub_ , and I say we should encourage interspecies relationships if anything!

 **sexy devil:** love is for everyone!

 **purple bastard:** _Love is for everyone?_ Is he being serious?

 **purple bastard:** What evil scheme is this?

 **charlie’s demons:** hes got a point, tosser

 **lady death:** Do you hear yourself, brother?

 **lady death:** You’re supposed to be the Patron Saint of Messengers and bring messages of Love. How different is loving a star or a river or a planet or another angel from loving a human or a demon?

 **lady death:** I know humanity better than anyone. I have a friend among them. And I was there, at the End of All Things, or have you forgotten?

 **lady death:** How _is_ Ella, by the way? I haven’t seen her in a while.

 **maze runner:** annoyingly happy like always

 **annoying brother:** You know Ella?

 **lady death:** We met when she was 8. I sort of… told her I was a ghost and stuck around.

 **sexy devil:** azrael came to me the last time she saw her, gave me a right pep talk

 **sexy devil:** I forgot you didn’t know

 **annoying brother:** I’m not even surprised.

 **annoying brother:** Speaking of, Charlie just woke up, I need to feed him.

 **charlie’s demons:** send a photo, I wanna see my namesake[6]

 **annoying brother:** [ _image attached_ : littleangel.jpeg]

 **charlie’s demons:** aww

 **charlie’s demons:** u cant do emojis but photos are cool, interesting

 **maze runner:** pff _everyone_ always wants to see pictures of him

 **maze runner:** humans r all nauseatingly corny around babies

 **flies all over:** babies are gross

 **charlie’s demons:** no theyre not

 **sexy devil:** I literally went to hell for this tiny being and any hostile parties should remember that

 **sexy devil:** yes, I’m looking at you, beelzebub

 **flies all over:** …

 **charlie’s demons:** I wonder, could an angel and a demon have a baby

 **sexy devil:** interesting question

 **lady death:** We can have children with humans and with each other, and so can demons…

 **maze runner:** if u make all the right parts

 **annoying brother:** Yeah, but what about their celestial forms?

 **flies all over:** and who would wanna _try_

 **maze runner:** crowley and his angel idiot

 **charlie’s demons:** djdfnjfefsdaa

 **charlie’s demons:** imagine that

 **sexy devil:** I’m thinking the child would be mostly angelic with some demonic aspects, like shapeshifting into whatever creature their demonic parent is associated with and travelling between electrons

 **sexy devil:** they’d have a grace and halo both and that spark of fire in them

 **sexy devil:** and both hellfire and holy water resistance

 **annoying brother:** Like you, you mean, not quite on either side

 **sexy devil:** well

 **maze runner:** that would be terrifying

 **maze runner:** i want one

 **annoying brother:** Maze, _no_.

 **purple bastard:** Makes me wonder about that little trick those two pulled. How _did_ they survive?

 **sexy devil:** not saying

 **purple bastard:** You know? You must share the information!

 **sexy devil:** I don’t take orders from anyone, brother

 **maze runner:** he wouldnt even tell me

 **lady death:** Some things must stay hidden.

 **sexy devil:** exactly

 **flies all over:** fuck off gabe

 **purple bastard:** How dare you.

 **flies all over:** no one wants u here anyway

 **purple bastard:** Why am I even still talking to you? I have better work to do than talk to _demons_.

 **annoying brother:** Go on then, no one’s keeping you here.

 **sexy devil:** I am

 **sexy devil:** and I see we’re getting nowhere

 **maze runner:** u didn’t even tell us what you wanted smh

 **sexy devil:** advice![7]

 **flies all over:** don’t

 **flies all over:** he’ll make this place even _more miserable_

 **flies all over:** it was bad enough we had to listen to _crowley_

 **maze runner:** wait what does it look like

 **flies all over:** he wants it to be _clean_

 **flies all over:** and there are colourful tiles

 **flies all over:** everythings _fixed_

 **flies all over:** _new furniture_

 **flies all over:** ugh

 **flies all over:** and he punishes anyone who starts a riot or stabs someone like on _earth_

 **maze runner:** go get em boss

 **charlie’s demons:** bless, lucifer

 **charlie’s demons:** thats positively _wicked_

 **sexy devil:** there _were_ riots, mind

 **sexy devil:** neron’s acolytes are starting to cause trouble just as he promised

 **charlie’s demons:** bollocks[8]

 **sexy devil:** indeed

 **charlie’s demons:** …do u watch tgp

 **sexy devil:** yes, it’s so brilliant

 **sexy devil:** they even got most things right

 **charlie’s demons:** ikr? _this is hell, of course theres a gift shop_

 **charlie’s demons:** and the special sections

 **charlie’s demons:** the one person with correct prophecies

 **charlie’s demons:** the unhelpful janet assistant

 **annoying brother:** Or the helpful Janet assistant[9].

 **sexy devil:** bloody bureaucracy everywhere

 **purple bastard:** Right? It’s so agonizing.

 **flies all over:** weren’t u fucking off

 **purple bastard:** You were right, this is far more entertaining than paperwork—and I can’t believe I’m saying that.

 **annoying brother:** No one said that.

 **purple bastard:** Ugh, fine. You made me _think about things_.

 **sexy devil:** the mighty gabriel thinking? is the second apocalypse coming?

 **charlie’s demons:** asmjdnjfdgdsf

 **flies all over:** burnnn

 **maze runner:** good one lucifer 👏🏾

 **purple bastard:** I will smite you so hard you’ll see galaxies.

 **sexy devil:** for that you’d have to come down here

 **sexy devil:** I’ll even give you the whole kingdom if you want, devil’s honour

 **flies all over:** oh yes then I could have my fun with u

 **maze runner:** do u want tips

 **maze runner:** angels like it when u touch their wings

 **charlie’s demons:** akdjdnsfadf

 **sexy devil:** 😁😁😁

 **annoying brother:** 😑

 **purple bastard:** I would _never_ sit on that filthy chair.

 **sexy devil:** it’s new, I bought it two weeks ago

 **sexy devil:** and the iron throne is never filthy, merely uncomfortable as hell

 **charlie’s demons:** puns 😂

**lady death: 😸**

**flies all over:** id kick u right off and into the lethe anyway

 **purple bastard:** …

 **flies all over:** told u, fun

 **charlie’s demons:** as I said, drama 😁

 **maze runner:** those two need to bone

 **charlie’s demons:** bOne????

 **charlie’s demons:** wHat haPpeNs in My beDrOom deTecTivE iS NonE oF YouR buSineSS

 **sexy devil:** booone??!

 **maze runner:** don’t ever speak to me like that again!!!

 **charlie’s demons:** skndjsfnj I dont know many demons who know b99

 **sexy devil:** courtesy of moi

 **flies all over:** i don’t understand the reference

 **purple bastard:** You’re not the only one.

 **charlie’s demons:** watch brooklyn nine nine maybe ull start to like earth

 **sexy devil:** gabriel is definitely amy santiago

 **charlie’s demons:** oml yeah even down to the _suits_

 **sexy devil:** but worse and certainly not so attractive

 **purple bastard:** I am attractive enough, thank you very much.

 **flies all over:** welllll

 **sexy devil:** keep dreaming

 **charlie’s demons:** and any demon is jake tbh

 **maze runner:** and we all know how those two ended up

 **sexy devil:** this was fun but now I can’t get the image of gabe and beelzy out of my head

 **lady death:** Oh yeah? You weren’t in Tadfield, not really.

 **annoying brother:** ?

 **purple bastard:** I asked what this was about and it’s _blasphemy how dare you_

 **maze runner:** look at him forgetting the period

 **flies all over:** ur a virgin arent u 😁

 **flies all over:** not that im personally interested

 **purple bastard:** Likewise. And I won’t tell you.

 **lady death:** You’re all like kids, I swear…

 **maze runner:** like I said if they just had sex it’d solve everything

 **maze runner:** stubborn bastards with their heads in their asses

 **charlie’s demons:** thats it youre playing cards against divinity next time we do it

 **charlie’s demons:** both of u @ gabriel & beelzebub

 **sexy devil:** gabe wasn’t supposed to know

 **charlie’s demons:** whoops

 **lady death:** Not that they could beat me.

 **charlie’s demons:** unfortunately 😑

 **sexy devil:** but they could beat _me_

 **purple bastard:** What wasn’t I supposed to know?

 **flies all over:** ask mickey mouse

 **purple bastard:** Who?

 **flies all over:** _michael_

 **annoying brother:** When was the last time you played?

 **charlie’s demons:** 2 months ago

 **annoying brother:** Ah, I wasn’t sure whether you didn’t play without me.

 **maze runner:** _u play????_

 **maze runner:** fuck I gotta come the next time I need to see that

 **lady death:** He usually places last 😁

 **purple bastard:** Excuse me the whole time angels and demons played a _card game together in the lobby_

 **lady death:** Only after the Apocalypse.

 **sexy devil:** idk whose idea it was but I’m innocent

 **sexy devil:** of this anyway

 **flies all over:** its best to pretend upper management dont know

 **purple bastard:** What the _fuck_.

 **lady death:** Don’t tell Crowley and Aziraphale?

 **sexy devil:** ah don’t worry sister

 **charlie’s demons:** this is more fun than the film my humans put on who cares we get nothing done

 **sexy devil:** I care!

 **sexy devil:** but you’re right

 **sexy devil:** at least it passes the time, I’m bloody bored down here

 **charlie’s demons:** lets stream b99

 **charlie’s demons:** the time ship ai can do that[10]

 **sexy devil:** _finally a good idea_

 **sexy devil:** can she reach hell?

 **charlie’s demons:** well see

 **charlie’s demons:** k, all set

 **charlie’s demons:** miracle the signal stronger and put it on for all of hell ;)

 **charlie’s demons:** and heaven @ gabriel

 **purple bastard:** I won’t listen to you.

 **flies all over:** i dare u to do it

 **purple bastard:** Fine! I won’t have anyone say we’re less fun than demons!

**flies all over: 😁**

**sexy devil:** oh, this is simply _brilliant_

 **sexy devil:** see, that’s what the council is for

 **charlie’s demons:** on the other hand lets do the good place, its more thematic i would say

 **maze runner:** hm

 **maze runner:** a bounty just turned n ya mama’s gonna have some fun with knives

 **maze runner:** tell me if they jump at it or murder each other

 **charlie’s demons:** 😉

* * *

1 Crowley jokingly called it the Dark Council. Lucifer refused that on principle. There already was a Council of Higher Demons, you didn’t need a Dark Council, and especially not when there were angels involved.[✿]

2 You probably find this shocking. No, She didn’t _always_ stay detached. She monitored everything that went down on Her Beloved Earth, including the conversations between Lucifer and his friends, and when She was feeling particularly wicked, She chose to reply. There was a rule about not interfering with Earth and humans, but not about an odd and very vague message every now and then. It happened [this year in January](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17384027/chapters/41990561#workskin) for the first time and continued to happen every month or so since then.

You may remember Lucifer claiming God had a habit of ignoring him as well as anyone else. What he meant was, She never talked to him or anyone else _in person_. He didn’t think the messages were important to mention, as he does.[✿]

3 The truth was that the author [wrote about this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17384027/chapters/45650356) two months ago and didn’t yet have the idea of this work, and so paid little attention to plot and went with a [stylish introduction](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17384027/chapters/45929329) (already out of sync with this) of one Crowley and Aziraphale twelve days after the creation of this particular chat.[✿]

4 They also met at the party. And a couple of times during ladies’ night, even though Charlie wasn’t strictly a lady. They merely had the body of one right now.[✿]

5 You know the bit about Beelzebub calling a Heaven number when ze needed Holy Water? It was Gabriel’s. It was necessary to have each other’s number in cases of interdepartmental cooperation, such as the Original Execution, you see. They most certainly didn’t complain about work to each other.[✿]

6 This was a coincidence.[✿]

7 That wasn’t strictly true. Mostly, he was bored of planning and scheming and listening to the same babble Crowley had to endure and needed a distraction.[✿]

8 You should also know that the very team of time travellers Charlie was a part of involved Constantine and took credit for sending Neron to Hell. Rightfully so. He tried not only to take Earth and Hell but also to kill all of _them_. That was the part Lucifer was most pissed about. He _did_ like them.[✿]

9 It wasn’t named Janet. It wasn’t named anything, really, and it looked more like a metal oval with a screen and a calming male voice, but there truly was such an assistant in Heaven. Even Hell had one, but true to Bad Janet, it wasn’t of much use.[✿]

10 The time ship AI, named Gideon, also kept the chatting app running and able to reach to Hell, Heaven, space, and different time periods. She came from the 22nd century, which was when the tension between humans and celestials will mostly have calmed down, and humans will have been allowed to get to know more of Heaven’s progressive technology, such as time travel.[✿]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you like lucifer and good omens and this fic, please watch legends of tomorrow. it's a seriously underrated series and the crackiest that there is. it gets better with every season. you'll laugh your arse off and see:
> 
> \- lots of time travel shenanigans  
> \- more historical characters than in doctor who  
> \- powerful female characters and poc heroes and more gays than straights  
> \- powerful platonic and romantic relationships  
> \- witches, wizards, gods, dragons, demons...  
> \- plausible and good villain redemption stories  
> \- who neron is and what he did  
> \- who charlie is  
> \- where i take my hell imagery from—because while lucifer showed us the throne and the loops and gomens showed us the inside of that one building, legends showed us the city from the outside and completed the picture  
> \- that there are houses and bars and clubs and places in hell where demons can spend their wages and have fun other than torture  
> \- that humans can have power in hell too  
> \- that hell is run by a triumvirate of lucifer, beelzebub, and belial—which is what i'm (spoiler alert) aiming for in this fic, eventually.
> 
> just trust me on this. watch it. it's what got me to get back to writing and start this series a year ago, and brought lucifer into the dc mess (because it's sort of comics canon that he knows constantine, who's a part of the legends team) and eventually HERE.


	11. in which gabriel and beelzebub work out some issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is where the beelzebub/gabriel tag comes into play! it took me ages to write cos it's _again_ the longest chapter (over 6k!!!) and cos gabriel's pov was a bit of a challenge, but also so much fun!!! they're both idiots and i love them
> 
> p.s. read gabriel's wiki page it's the best thing ever

Gabriel had no idea what he was doing here.

All right, well. He should start at the beginning, shouldn’t he? He read it somewhere that being linear about things helped.

He and Beelzebub started to talk.

It began about seven hundred years ago, when neither office knew who had been responsible for the Great Plague and both took credit for it. That happened often enough; this time, someone noticed. Their interests clashed, but the field agents didn’t have the clearance to sort it out, and so the two of them found themselves on Earth.

There had been quite the amount of blood, and a whole _mountain_ of paperwork. Gabriel still remembered how _filthy_ his cloak had been and the black eye Beelzebub had bestowed on him. It was nothing compared to zir awful handwriting.

But that was irrelevant.

Since then, they have exchanged a few words[1] and rather more than a few interdepartmental forms waiting for approval, and even went as far as to arrange a personal appointment to discuss what to do with the Traitors once twenty million angels and demons stood down and grudgingly accepted the lack of fighting in the foreseeable future.

And then another when the execution didn’t work, and another to do some surveillance. Twice.

Those were matters of business and nothing more, though. Necessary. More undesirable than coffee sweetened with salt on accident, to use a human metaphor[2].

Not that he knew what coffee tasted like. Or sugar. Or salt.

Now, however, when things were more open and sort of unclear and very, _very_ confusing, they ended up _casually_ _conversing_ about work, stupid demons and incompetent angels, their mutual demotions—and, look, they had things in _common_.

An Archangel and a Prince of Hell.

He shuddered on instinct and didn’t know what to think about it. Or admit that he had doubts. Or that this was _exactly_ what those they called Traitors did[3]. That thought stayed locked up at the back of his mind with a very persistent jailor to keep it in check.

Because right now, Gabriel was sitting on a grisly chair in a frankly appalling establishment humans called a _pub_ and waiting for a very belated demon to arrive.

Any human who glanced at him between mundane conversation and sipping at their drinks would tell you that he looked bored and uncomfortable and tired, and that human would be right.

They would also assume he was a business manager working at one of those glass buildings in The City and finally sitting down for a pint on a Friday afternoon, working up his nerves for dealing with his emancipated wife and spoilt children and trying to forget his colleagues’ unending demands. They would be wrong about that, but not by _that_ much.

The beer going stale in front of him was only for the sake of appearances.

Gabriel frowned and checked the watch he has also put on for the sake of appearances. It has been twelve minutes since Beelzebub was supposed to turn up, and again, he had no idea what he was _still_ doing there. Or knew why he agreed to meet _here_ of all places.

He was in _no_ way, not even a _tad_ , looking forward to talking to zir because ze would _get him_ and offer _relevant points_ and be a _predictable_ adversary should anything go sideways.

He shifted his feet, and the floor made a slightly sticky sound. His brow furrowed even deeper in sheer disgust. _This_ was worth preserving?

Though, Gabriel supposed, some earthly habits _were_ interesting. Take converting fermented food matter and turning it into a mildly poisonous drink that was to be consumed recreationally around company and lowered one’s inhibitions, for example. That was so gross it was _fascinating_.

He watched bubbles dissipate from the beer.

He couldn’t tell how much time passed before the scrape of a chair being pulled to the table snapped him awake from his beer-watching trance.

Beelzebub was wearing zir customary dull expression and repugnant fly hat, but ze forewent the sash this time. It was the first time Gabriel saw zir looking so—well, casual. Just the jacket and necktie and lapel pins. It was as if ze was being casual with _him_.

Oh _Lord_ , how did that _happen_ [4]?

In place of a greeting, ze pointed at the glass and asked, ‘Are you going to drink that?’

He shot zir an offended look and instinctively made himself look larger and positively angelic. ‘Of course not, who am I, a barbarian?’

With nothing but sneer, Beelzebub said, ‘You’re a pompous bloody idiot.’

Ze reached for the beer and drank the pint off. Ze made a face at the lukewarmness of it and wiped zir mouth with zir sleeve before ze slammed it on the table hard enough to produce cracks and called, ‘Another!’ loudly enough for the entire neighbourhood to hear.

‘You’re disgusting,’ Gabriel pointed out.

‘I’m a demon,’ Beelzebub shot back, unimpressed. Ze generally looked unimpressed at everything anyone ever did, or, alternatively, more bored than anyone he’s ever met.

The barman, not put out by the display of rude behaviour, brought Beelzebub a fresh pint with a, ‘There you are, ma’am.’ Ze didn’t thank him and promptly drained the whole thing again. There was a foam moustache above zir lip, which ze licked off, purposefully keeping eye contact.

_Disgusting_.

Gabriel wondered if the yellow alcoholic beverage tasted as foul as it looked.

‘So,’ he began, at the same time ze said, ‘Speaking of—’

The intensity of their glares almost set the wooden table on fire. Then Gabriel gestured at zir and told zir ze should speak first, with an apology, because it was rooted in an angel’s core and didn’t avoid even the self-centred bastard he was.

Then he proceeded to apologise for apologising to a demon and added a phoney grin that convinced about only him that he handled the situation perfectly.

Beelzebub rolled zir eyes. ‘—that _mongrel_ Crowley thinks he can _order us ‘round_ when he survived Holy Water and bloody _redecorate_ Hell, can you believe that?’ Ze leant on the table, sharp elbows pointing to the sides. ‘Thinks he’zz second Lucifer juzzt ‘cause he got authority for _one day_ , my _arse_.’

‘Technically he _would_ rank above Lucifer,’ Gabriel said, conversationally. ‘I mean…’

_He was one of **us** , he was my **brother** , an **Archangel** , and he **left us** —_

He said none of that. But he remembered: remembered the deep emerald of his eyes; remembered their collective creation of the binary stars of Alpha Centauri; remembered the Heavenly Healer who had wavy red hair and annoyed everyone to no end and thought of the best concepts for new planets and technologies and never wanted to fight in the War, and who hung around Lucifer— _still Samael_ [5] _, then_ —because he had interesting ideas too. Who had _questions_.

That had been unthinkable. Gabriel had laughed at him and called him foolish and said there was only one truth to everything, and that was Her truth. He and his siblings had cast the fourth one out in Her name, merciless. He hadn’t gone and joined him like he’d almost wanted to.

Millions of years later, he was beginning to ask the same questions, but it was too late.

‘I don’t _care_ what he uzzed to be[6], I want Hell to be the way it _wazz_ ,’ complained Beelzebub, zir hat leaning dangerously close into Gabriel’s personal space. He straightened his already impeccably straight posture. The crease in his brow didn’t disappear. 

‘Are you sure, Bub? From what I’ve heard,’ mostly from Michael and some angelic gossips he couldn’t help but overhear, and also, everyone could imagine what _Hell_ could look like, ‘it could do with a do-over. Preferably starting with a nice shower. Holy, maybe.’

‘Call me by my fucking _name_ , moron,’ Beelzebub huffed. Ze didn’t appreciate the joke, then… ‘And showers are _exzzactly_ what Lucifer’s trying to write into the Personal Life Paragraph, Hygiene Section. It didn’t even _exzzist_ last week!’

There were flashbacks again, but this time to last Tuesday rather than ancient history. ‘Sounds like the mandatory humanology lessons.’

‘It’s _worse_ ,’ ze spat, leaning back. The air became clearer. ‘Have you ever _seen_ a demon showering?’

He did _not_ picture Beelzebub in what the humans called a showering cubicle[7] right now.

‘No, and nor do I desire to,’ Gabriel said with false conviction, ‘but he _does_ have a point.’

Ze picked up the empty beer glass and shoved it in front of his face as if it was a gun. ‘Are you _sympathising_ with the Traitor?’

‘On this particular subject, yes,’ he admitted. From what he saw in that Group Chat Thing, things like plants and soap made their way into Hell, and that was definitely a change for the better. He might even learn to despise demons a good 6% less. ‘We angels naturally have no need for showering, but you…’

‘We _what_? Are too filthy for your haughty arses, aren’t we, only good for being vanquished under your mighty swords? Except that’zz not _happening_ , thanks to _that_ idiot and his angelic _lover_.’

The glass threatened to turn into an actual gun and only changed its mind in the last second. Beelzebub put it down. A couple of humans were staring, which neither angel nor demon noticed.

Gabriel felt… odd, when ze said it like _that_.

‘Guess I should thank him, becauzze we all know our side wouldn’t win, but don’t let him hear that, _ever_ ,’ Beelzebub continued in a softer tone, and. Oh. That was new.

‘I’m sure you’d give us Hell, though,’ Gabriel said, gesturing all over with his hands and smile and eyebrows in, what? _Reassurance_? Ugh. ‘Might even kill some of us, honestly. Not me. But some angels.’

‘Izz that supposed to make me feel _better_?’ zir tongue was sharp. He would swear the hat moved.

‘Yes? No? I don’t know, I don’t understand _demons_ ,’ he scoffed. His palms landed flat on the table and felt its stickiness firsthand.

Ze leant forward again and played with the thought of swatting those hands away. Gabriel rather hoped ze wouldn’t. He didn’t want demon fingers all over himself[8]. Beelzebub said, ‘Well, now we’ll never know, won’t we.’

‘But that’s it, isn’t it? Won’t we really? Maybe the Great Plan wasn’t…’ he trailed off. One hand reached for the saltshaker and studied it. It decided not to touch the vinegar bottle without latex gloves. ‘Doesn’t matter. Never say never, as humans say!’

Ze narrowed zir eyes. ‘We’ve got special sectionzz for those who say that.’

Gabriel grimaced. He put the salt back. ‘Really?’

‘They get rejected a billion times over,’ ze grinned, and showed surprisingly clean and definitely not sharp teeth. ‘I’ll go order some food, I’m _starving_.’

‘You don’t need to eat,’ he noted. Neither angels nor demons did, and honestly, Aziraphale and his sushi were a _disgrace_. Water was one thing, but _food_ …

Beelzebub made sure the chair scraped against the floor extremely loudly when ze stood up. ‘But I bloody _want to_ eat, numbskull.’ Zir short legs carried zir over to the bar, and he recognised the ridiculous fishnet socks ze kept wearing.

He sighed and waited for zir to plop back onto the chair. When ze did two minutes later, Gabriel asked, ‘What about that dead demon’s followers, are they causing trouble? Should we be worried?’

‘Oh, no need to stick your angelic arse into our buzziness,’ ze said, sliding the chair over without the previous pomp. Ze continued, ‘They’re crazzy if they think they can storm the castle and take the throne; I don’t care how many soulzz they collect[9], they’re Lesser Demons.’

Gabriel nodded. ‘Good, that’s good. Fewer threats for Earth mean less paperwork.’

He wasn’t asking because he was genuinely concerned, obviously, are you _daft_?

‘I thought you _loved_ paperwork,’ Beelzebub snorted. Ze was none the better, and ze was right. Although there was a distinctive difference between the love for organised, properly filled, and tripled paperwork and for doing paperwork _itself_.

There was nothing more pleasing than receiving a perfect form 23A, completed in neat cursive and with all the right boxes checked, that got the stamp right away and went straight into the archive. But there was also nothing more _boring_ than sitting and writing out stupid form 614 in its fifty-six page glory all day—because _that_ was his job now, instead of _rejecting_ all those forms, overseeing the order of the Cherubim and God’s Throne[10], and making sure everyone was in the right shape and that the souls weren’t missing anything or any _one_ [11].

He said, ‘I thought _you_ loved paperwork.’

‘It’s _necessary_ , there’zz a difference,’ Beelzebub replied, blowing a raspberry. Then zir head dropped onto the table. ‘Doezzn’t mean they’re not a bloody pain the the arse ‘cause boss wants them all gone, and whozze job is that?’

The fly looked offended. Gabriel was caught short. He processed the information by trying to look anywhere but at zir and looked like a panicking ostrich.

‘Yours?’ he suggested curiously.

Ze lifted zir head. He hasn’t seen that expression before. ‘That was a rhetorical question, idiot. _Of courzze_ it’s my bloody job. Can’t just refuzze to do it if I don’t want to take a swim in Holy fucking Water.’

Swimming in Holy Water was excellent for the physique and positively calming, he would tell you, thinking of the Olympic pool outside his private residence, and imagined the demon getting in, pleased about the obliteration of a filthy creature.

His mind quickly aborted the thought and sort of cringed. ‘That harsh, is he?’

Beelzebub gave him the side-eye. ‘Don’t tell me, you can _relate_.’

‘Actually—’

In that moment, a portion of fish and chips wrapped in paper landed on the table in front of zir. The barman took the beer glass away, ridding Beelzebub of zir weapon. Ze took to pouring quanta of salt and vinegar onto the unhealthy yellow food, and Gabriel watched zir in distaste.

It didn’t smell half that bad if he were being honest.

‘—have I told you about Amenadiel?’

Beelzebub shoved four chips into zir mouth and said, ‘Yeff. Twife.’

‘At least chew with your mouth closed.’

Gabriel was thankful the food didn’t come with a fork, because the Look ze gave him alone almost discorporated him. Ze proceeded to make a show of chewing loudly and making _noises_. And slide the greasy paper in his direction.

No wonder the table looked the way it did.

Ze said, ‘Have some, _or at least_ _shut up_.’

Gabriel didn’t hazard touching it. ‘I don’t take orders from demons.’

‘And I don’t take orders from angelzz.’ Ze ate half of the batter-encrusted fish at once and cocked one of zir usually frowning eyebrows. ‘I dare you to eat the rest.’

He shook his head and emphasised his disgust with a ‘No.’

‘You watched that Earth show, but you draw the line at food?’

_The Earth show_ , as ze put it, was a huge success among the angels, actually, but he wasn’t going to give zir a satisfaction of telling zir that. Or that he had to jog out the shame from liking a character who turned out to be a wily demon rather than an Archangel, and then continued rooting for him anyway.

‘I will _not_ consume gross matter. And that,’ he pointed at it, ‘is definitely gross.’

‘You’re paying, then.’ Ze took it back and ate more chips, looking at Gabriel and making him uncomfortable all the way through. He felt the need to jump into that pool.

‘You weren’t going to pay,’ he pointed out, knowing zir. His brain short-circuited at the sentiment.

‘No, but you refused the dare. You’re paying.’ It was an order.

He didn’t take orders from demons, but his pocket conjured up some pound notes. Then he got an idea. ‘I dare you to perform a miracle for someone here,’ he made a circular gesture around the pub. ‘Something good. If you do it, I’ll pay for that, if you don’t, you will.’

It was a game neither admitted to playing. It all started after the execution. And Gabriel was curious now.

Beelzebub paused, thinking. Then ze gave him another one of those terrifying grins and snapped zir fingers. Everyone’s beer glasses refilled themselves.

His smile was extremely smug. ‘That’s encouraging gluttony and alcoholism. Doesn’t count, Bub.’

‘The humans are happy about it,’ ze made a counterpoint, gesturing at a couple of men who stared at their pints in awe, shrugged, and drank their fresh, cold beers in a daze of Friday afternoon content. ‘ _Good_ enough.’

Gabriel took a breath to tell zir that _no_ , _good_ was something _entirely_ else, something _pure and selfless_ , but thought better of it when ze _threw_ the chips right in his handsome face and told him to pay up. That shut him up for a full minute.

His hands crushed the table they have been resting upon.

‘That was foul play,’ he said, purple eyes darkening. ‘ _Demon_.’

‘That’s _Prince Beelzebub_ for you,’ ze snarled. Zir eyes held a spark of flame. ‘I’m done. Pay up.’

He threw a piece of sturdy table onto the spot of tiled floor next to him carelessly. It landed with a thump. The air swarmed with dust bunnies. The drinking humans around the pub glanced at each other in concern and fear and discomfort, and some calmly decided to relocate or hastily finish their last pint.

Gabriel said, ‘No. This is _your_ fault.’

Look, he usually had excellent impulse control, but when someone was rude to him, insulted him, or thought they were better than him, he tended to forget all about that. Maybe you’ve noticed. It wasn’t a good thing when dealing with an intransigent Prince of Hell in a human pub in the middle of London. Or ever.

Still, he should’ve seen it coming when ze decked him in the mug.

There was a series of groans coming from the gallery; some pitiful, some excited, some shocked. Either way, for the humans, the scene played out like this: the tall American businessman somehow, inexplicably, leant on the table so hard a piece fell off. Must’ve been damaged before, so unfortunate! And then his rather small colleague? wife? knocked him down with the kind of power only pissed short women harboured, and laughed ever so devilishly when he glared at her like a disconcerted owl when getting up.

All of them elected to vacate the premises after that.

Good thing they did, because that was when Gabriel’s wings entered the battlefield. They sported mauve interwoven with lilac and periwinkle across soft feathers, perfectly groomed and shining with Heavenly might, and their span touched the walls on either side and terrified even the seasoned barman into retiring into the kitchen.

He wouldn’t usually be so reckless with them. Not around humans. But he’s just been attacked by a demon, so surely you understand it was all justified.

Never mind that the demon, albeit slim in figure, was more powerful than he was when it came down to it.

‘Is that meant to impress me?’ ze asked, unimpressed.

The Archangel exhaled in an are-you-serious way and charged. Beelzebub swiftly slid out of the way and circled behind him. Ze grabbed the nearest chair. It shattered into pieces when it met his wings and plummeted at the wall instead.

Predictable adversary indeed.

‘Is _that_ meant to impress _me_? Come on, I know you can do better.’

Zir gaze dropped to zir hand. It ignited with unholy fire. Gabriel flinched. ‘How’zz that for better?’

He was, well. Actually _scared_. That was unbecoming of an Archangel, so he copied zir move and threw a chair zir way. Beelzebub let it hit zir on purpose, which made Gabriel pause in confusion for a second there.

It was a mistake. A splash of beer spilt across his crisp suit and soaked all the way to his skin, sticky and unfamiliar and _awful_. Then the glass shattered under his feet, followed by another empty beer glass, a paper plate with a ham sandwich, and some crisps.

It was all rather undignified. Gabriel scrunched up his nose. Oh, the _suit_ —

Beelzebub dropped zir usual cool and screamed. He didn’t even have time to react before ze pushed him against a wall with more force than that body should encompass. The fly slipped from zir hair—and was there a _squeak_?

He didn’t have time to think about it, because Beelzebub’s own wings unleashed on the spot.

Gabriel hasn’t seen them for a billion years. They were fire come to life. Reds, oranges, yellows like from a phoenix’s tail scattered across them, burning and potent. And that was only the first pair out of _three_.

There was a myth about demons losing their original might after the Fall, shedding their wings and faces and eyes, and becoming dark, foul things. Only the latter part was true. Former Seraphim retained all three pairs and could manifest them if they desired. It merely wasn’t often they did so.

‘I am _not_ good,’ ze cried, clutching at the lapels of his soaked jacket. ‘No matter how much you want me to be I’m _not_ , that wazzz a _long_ time ago, and there’zzz no going back. I won’t fall for your little _tricks_ , Gabriel.’

Despite the crushing force pinning him to wooden wainscoting, he cracked one of those false smiles. ‘You can rot away in Hell forever for all I care, demon.’

Ze let go of him so fast his body got whiplash. He stepped away from the wall and straightened his clothes and wings. He made sure ze would notice his miracling himself clean.

‘I’m just _tired_ ,’ Beelzebub shouted, ‘of _everything_ , of quarrelling underlings and stupid Crowley and Lucifer’zz latest whimzzical ideas that will only lead to more chaos and destruction because we live in bloody _Hell_.’ Ze preened zir wings and jabbed a finger into Gabriel’s grey, now clean, turtleneck. ‘And I thought angelzz didn’t lie.’

‘We don’t,’ Gabriel lied.

Ze stepped back.

He hid his wings back where they came from. His face went from Condescending and Angry to Painfully Honest in a matter of seconds. ‘Do you have _any_ idea how tedious Heaven can be?’ He laughed. ‘I fell asleep on my shiny new desk once. _Fell asleep_!’

He was tired, too, and the tiredness had no end because _what now_?

And it wasn’t like God was going to give them an _answer_. He stopped being naïve enough to think She was behind them. And it was all _Aziraphale’s_ fault! One angel, one Principality, practically a nobody compared to him, and look what he did.

Except that was it, wasn’t it? He had _Raphael_ behind him, and God would never let _him_ die. Even after he Fell, She loved him enough to make sure everything worked out for him. _Him_ , not Gabriel. Even in Her absence, God made it abundantly clear who was Her favourite[12].

‘Dear Satan, that must’ve been _terrible_ ,’ Beelzebub mocked. The unimpressed frown was back. The fiery wings were still there, looming.

‘It was!’ Gabriel said, throwing his hands in the air. ‘I had a dream about—’

‘About?’

A ripple went through the reds and oranges as if ze _knew_.

‘Never mind. It was a horrible dream, and I’m _tired_ , and _bored_ , and jogging and martial arts aren’t going to _cut it_ but I don’t know what to _do_.’

‘I know what you could do,’ ze said, biting zir lip. ‘Those moronzz had a _point_.’

Gabriel’s mind instantaneously circled back to that stupid, chaotic, purposeless conversation chain again and didn’t flush red at the notion of what those demons had said, or what _this_ demon was doing.

‘I dare you to kiss me.’

‘ _No_.’

Zir eyebrow was playing a game he wasn’t sure he understood. ‘Are you _bored_ or are you _gutless_?’

‘You’re a—’

‘And you’re an angel, doezzn’t mean I’m any less dizzgusted by you than you are by me. Makezz things interesting.’ Gabriel felt the press of that slender finger jamming into his chest again. It hurt. ‘Or is the Archangel fucking Gabriel a fucking _coward_?’

Never mind he didn’t even try the food and ze knew that.

‘This is temptation. You’re tempting me to sin right now,’ he objected. It certainly felt like that. He didn’t like it, or _thought_ he didn’t like it, which was what temptation was, right?

‘I’m not a bloody temptress, imbecile, uzze your _brain_ ,’ ze said, running zir finger down the fabric of the turtleneck. It negated the statement somewhat. Which was very _rude_ , by the way.

‘That’s rude,’ he said, a little short of breath he shouldn’t have. ‘I _am_ using my brain.’

‘Maybe that’zz the problem then! Stupid angels overthinking thingzz—’

Against his better judgement, he bent down and kissed zir.

Because ze just _couldn’t_ use those wings and levitate a little to reach his height, obviously, why bother?

And no, it was not his first time doing this. It was just the first time he kissed a demon.

Said demon pushed him right back at the wall and used zir hands to hold him in place. Ze really was strong—and, actually, this wasn’t so bad, and nothing exploded, just like Mazikeen said[13]—

Beelzebub pushed deeper and experimentally bit at his lower lip. He tasted ichor and ash and opened up his mouth for _more_. It wasn’t just _not bad_ , it was the _opposite_ of bad, and the opposite of _good_ at the same time and actually _disgusting, what was he doing_ —

Beelzebub hooked zir legs around his middle and closed zir wings around them, and he held zir close. It was flaming and impetuous. Literally, ze was _really_ warm. Gabriel remembered the angel ze used to be again and wondered whether ze did too. It was about the only coherent thought on his mind.

_The angel of fire, second in command of the Seraphim._ Oh, they had _met_.

Flies replaced eyes, but the glow was still there somewhere.

If he wasn’t already snogging a demon senseless and enjoying it, it would sort of change his perspective on their kind, finding out. But he _was_ rather occupied at the moment.

Zir hands scraped the back of his head and neck and zir tongue, was it _insistent_. Gabriel wasn’t going to _lose_ this. He tried the biting thing from earlier. It made Beelzebub make a Sound.

Ze pulled away and looked at him with a wicked, triumphant grin and a mischievous glint in zir eyes. _Fuck_ , he was doomed. He was done for. God was so going to smite him now[14]. What did he _do_ —

‘Not tired and bored now, are you?’

He didn’t want to give zir the pleasure of proving zir right.

‘There, I fulfilled your dare. Can we move on now?’ he said, though not letting go of zir. Mostly because he was physically unable to do so thanks to the wings holding him captive.

‘You think you can just walk away now?’ ze whispered, leaning close enough to his ear to brush zir lips against it and sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. Zir legs squeezed him so hard it would knock air out of his lungs if he were human.

But he wasn’t. He was an Archangel. He turned them around and slammed zir into the wall hard enough to form a dent. Ze grinned at that, victorious once more, and he kissed zir again.

Neither of them particularly cared for the destruction they left behind, or the indignant publican who was cursing his life and work and contemplating throwing in the dishtowel and retiring to the countryside, where people were still decent and the air was still clean.

Gabriel’s hands were in Beelzebub’s hair, and Beelzebub’s hands were unsuccessfully trying to take Gabriel’s lavender jacket off.

‘Go on then, make an effort,’ ze said against his lips. ‘I want to feel you go hard for me.’

Gabriel paused, confounded. ‘You mean like…’ He glanced at the lower part of his body.

Ze bit zir swollen lip and cocked an eyebrow.

‘You want to…?’

‘Don’t tell me, you really _are_ a virgin.’

Gabriel cleared his throat and avoided the answer[15]. ‘We should probably take this somewhere else,’ he said instead, disbelieving his own mouth. Betraying him so many times today!

It wasn’t the only part of his corporate body that betrayed him. On its own, it Made an Effort.

Beelzebub snapped zir fingers and left the pub behind. Gabriel wasn’t very familiar with Earth— _yet_ —but he could recognise an empty hotel room when he saw one. It was all in the movies.

‘No one should be coming here,’ said the demon. He dumped zir on the bed. A single ochre feather slowly descended onto the floor, which was nowhere near his standards for cleanness.

And—he stopped dead in his tracks. ‘Oh Lord, we _are_ fraternising.’

Beelzebub hissed at the mention of Her name and reverted back to zir customary Frowny Expression. Ze sat up, sobering. ‘Like _them_.’

Gabriel thought of Crowley, Aziraphale, and their cosy little cottage. One, tiny part of his brain said, _is that really so bad?_ The bigger, more pronounced one, said, ‘Ugh.’ He turned on his heel and looked out of the window he had no idea was there a second ago. He ran his hand across his face, feeling a bruise already forming at the back of his neck.

The air felt increasingly heavy.

Beelzebub broke the silence with, ‘Unless…’

He turned back to look at zir. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘They went behind everyone’zz back like that, secretly meeting for centuries, lying in their reports, doing each other’zz _jobs_ ,’ ze said. Gabriel nodded. The false reports were a truly vile crime indeed. ‘But if we’re official about this—’

‘No one can say we’re traitors!’ He flashed zir the finger guns. ‘I like your thinking.’

It was a cringe-worthy statement, he realised too late, and actually cringed. It only earned him a toothy grin that lasted about three seconds. He thought he should teach zir how to smile properly[16].

‘If it’s in the official paperwork, it’s in the official paperwork, and no one can question it,’ Beelzebub ventured. ‘Should someone be stupid enough to get in their bosses’ featherzz.’

‘Well, _our_ bosses—’

Beelzebub fully leant forward and looked Gabriel in the eye. Ze had to do a _lot_ of looking up, as he was still standing. ‘Lucifer is dizzgustingly in love with a human and _encourages_ this.’

‘Wait, is that why,’ Gabriel gestured between them. ‘Are you trying to get in his good—bad?—graces by trying to prove you’re like _him_ and, and—’

‘Like I’d tell you my planzz,’ ze chuckled. Zir wings reflected the movement of zir body. Ze got up and stepped dangerously close to him. ‘None of your buzziness. And none of _theirs_.’

Ze turned zir eyes upwards.

God noticed, and took it as a signal for Her to stop lurking. She couldn’t help but pull a little trick, though, and made the single light in the room turn on and off again. It was a wink of sorts.

Gabriel’s eyes widened, and Beelzebub frowned. A celestial being, whether angel or demon, was _excellent_ at spotting divine influences.

‘Apparently,’ Gabriel said when he recovered from the strong sense of disbelief—which was rather ironic, considering the situation, ‘someone _is_ paying attention.’

‘I’ll erm, start on the paperwork tomorrow,’ said Beelzebub somewhat uneasily. ‘This needs completely new formzz. Bet they’d _love_ hearing about that.’

Ze didn’t need to clarify who _they_ were.

‘I’m already picturing the charts,’ Gabriel said. Then he turned his attention back to the adverb of time. ‘Why waste any time, let’s go back to our offices and do this today!’

Beelzebub had a different idea. Ze grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him down onto the bed, right on top of zirself. He landed with an _oof_.

‘You’re an insufferable prick,’ ze said. ‘Take those blessed clothes[17] off already.’

* * *

1 Read: lengthy conversations.[✿]

2 Oh yes, he has been learning about humans. He didn’t _get them_ , but apparently, trying to do so was mandatory for the Upper Management now, and he would never pass an opportunity to attend an interesting presentation and brag about his new knowledge later. He’s even tried drinking water once![✿]

3 Gabriel, being stupid when it came to interpersonal relationships, couldn’t be further from _exactly_. But it was the kind of thing they did before the Apocawhoops, fair enough.[✿]

4 The Lord Almighty, while unable to give Gabriel an answer, would tell you that Crowley and Aziraphale were _hardly_ the only couple in her Grand Friendmaking and Matchmaking Scheme that was called the Ineffable Plan. They were merely the first and got the message that no, it was not _not_ allowed across. And perhaps Her favourite. Oh, how She rejoiced when they _finally_ shared that kiss, and cursed at the oblivious feline.

Well, truth be told, it was also about the Bet. Freyja and Dionysus were so amusingly flabbergasted that they actually managed to pull their act together within the 6100 years God had given them! And now they owed Her one single act of human interference on Her behalf and a lake made of the sweetest wine on Her private planetoid, respectively.[✿]

5 A Brief Lesson on (Fictional) Angel Hierarchy Vol. 2, Because Things Are Getting Confusing: most texts say Samael was an archangel. Here we say he’s a Cherub, because that’s who Satan is supposed to have been, which is even better, means he’s got two pairs of wings and those terrifying animal faces instead of being a boring third-sphere angel! Who cares about combining multiple canons?

Now, Raphael is an Archangel, one of the Big Four, you see. Sometimes it’s seven, sometimes just four. Here we say four. Gabriel is a Cherub, and Michael and Uriel are Seraphim. Those have three pairs of wings and all those eyes. Raphael is also supposed to be a Cherub. Which disproves Crowley not being Lucifer’s brother on every front. But! We sort of suggested before that the Big Four were only siblings with each other and no other angels, even though they came from the other orders too. Blame that on the _Lucifer_ series, where Amenadiel is the first-born angel. So naturally, after him came the Big Four. And only _then_ the _rest_ of the Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones. Those five were Prototypes, just like Adam and Eve were Prototype Humans! Lucifer is therefore younger than Crowley. They both share the same true forms, though, which is why Lucifer is so intent on calling him _brother_.[✿]

6 Beelzebub and Lucifer were the only ones in Hell who were aware of Crowley’s pre-Fall identity. Everyone in the Rebellion noticed an Archangel hanging around, sure enough, but the two of them were the first ones to wake up from their agony and break free of their burning chains. They found him lying there, two pairs of magnificent crow’s wings boiling in fire and brimstone, and wanted to make sure no else saw. They didn’t have to. ‘I don’t want anyone to know,’ Crawly had gasped, already transforming, assuming the new name bestowed on him. ‘Anyone. Please.’

The only angels who knew were the three Archangels, Azrael, Amenadiel, and Aziraphale—who was the only one Crowley _told_. Similarly to Hell, Heaven swept Raphael’s Fall under the rug and brushed it off with a “mysterious disappearance” every time someone remembered they haven’t seen him around in a few million years. It wasn’t very often. They all knew he loved the stars.[✿]

7 They had learnt about modern daily habits last week.[✿]

8 As a rule, angels didn’t dream. But they could choose to do so, if they actually decided to partake in sleep, and Gabriel sometimes did. His dreams were often occupied by demon fingers.[✿]

Here’s a secret: Gabriel remembered zir ( _her, back then, and so beautiful_ ) from Before too.

9 Apart from money—ancient Greek obols, in case you were wondering, no credit cards in Hell—souls were Hell’s currency. Especially when you belonged with the Soul Traders’ Guild. Neron had been one of them, and his vault held more contracts than anyone else’s. He had all the famous bastards: Hitler, Stalin, Michael Jackson, you name them. And before he was so ostentatiously dissolved in Holy Water, he had been on a quest to secure enough souls on Earth to warrant himself a right to fight for the Throne. We’re talking _tens of thousands_. Still, it meant nothing in the end. But his foolish acolytes didn’t think so.[✿]

10 Pitifully empty. God liked that planetoid of Hers in the Pleiades better than Heaven and after Apocawhoops, everyone _knew_. They couldn’t _say_ anything, though.[✿]

11 It had been quite a shock when he discovered that one has indeed gone missing, and the very first woman no less. And he had been the one who had to go and report Eve’s little trip to Earth to the Metatron. It wasn’t nice.[✿]

12 This was all sorts of incorrect. God uttered a really long, frustrated sigh and couldn’t wait for him to get on with it. [✿]

13 She had a reputation even in Heaven. _Everyone_ knew who Mazikeen of the Lilim, former Head Torturer and the Devil’s personal assistant-slash-bartender-slash-babysitter, was.[✿]

14 God was going to do no such thing. This was interesting, and fun, and honestly, their _dynamic_ —well. They were another to get the point across. A necessary inclusion in Her Plan. But that didn’t mean She couldn’t watch and get some of that metaphysical popcorn again, while She was at it.[✿]

15 Which was _no_ , should you wonder. He wouldn’t tell us more, though.[✿]

16 Telling Beelzebub that would earn him a slap so hard he’d see stars, ze would tell you personally, and laugh at his stupid face. Ze did not need _anyone_ , let alone an _angel_ , telling zir what to do and what to _look like_.[✿]

17 Quite literally. Heavenly clothes weren’t holy enough to burn a demon on touch, but everything that came from Up There couldn’t _help_ but be somewhat blessed.[✿]


	12. in which more revelations are made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> zira and crowley finally join the chat! about 2/3 of this are taken from chapter 75 of the main chatfic and slightly edited, and then expanded. 
> 
> the next update will be up on monday again, cos i'm going away and not taking my laptop.

**👼👹  
16/05/2019**

**sexy devil** _added_ **serpent** _and_ **serpent’s husband** _to_ 👼👹

**serpent:** no u didn’t

**serpent:** go to heaven

**serpent:** how do i get out of here

**serpent’s husband:** Does your grammar always have to be so terrible, my dear?

**serpent:** yeah i’m a demon i practially invented bad text grammar

**serpent:** why do u always have to brign it up

**maze runner:** angels

**serpent’s husband:** Also, why is… _this_ my name?

**maze runner:** luci’s phone contacts[1]

**sexy devil:** now that you’re all here

**annoying brother:** Why are we _still_ here?

**sexy devil:** this doesn’t concern you, amenadiel, so u can go back to wherever u are these days

**annoying brother:** With Linda and my son.

**serpent:** hold on, hang a sec

**serpent:** THE amenadiel has a son with a human????? the nephilim was yours????

**annoying brother:** You didn’t know?

**serpent:** ohhhh this has just made my day

**serpent:** or helped improve it anwyay, zira’s alcoholic biscuits already didt hat

**serpent:** he got into _baking_ recently mmhhh

**maze runner:** have u gone _soft_

**serpent:** no ma’am

**serpent’s husband:** Maybe just a little bit.

**serpent’s husband:** And deary me, I had no idea!

**sexy devil:** is no one listening to me

**lady death:** Not really.

**serpent:** who exactly is here…?

**maze runner:** not hastur if that’s what ur asking

**lady death:** Mostly those of us who are glad Earth didn’t end last year, Crowley.

**serpent:** good, perfect,

**serpent’s husband:** Are you who I think you are?

**serpent’s husband:** Thanks for the, um, help.

**lady death:** Hello, Aziraphale, long time no see.

**serpent:** nine months since the cpocalypse, was it

**lady death:** That was a joke.

**sexy devil:** yes, very funny, and I’m sure we can agree what a dreadful affair that was but can we move on

**annoying brother:** What do you need this time, Luci?

**sexy devil:** as I mentioned before, nothing from you

**sexy devil:** now, hypothetically, if I was to leave hell for a day or two again[2]

**serpent:** noooo i don’t like where this is going

**sexy devil:** would crowley be so kind, or, well, unkind to keep an eye on the throne for me

**sexy devil:** worked perfectly the last time

**serpent:** serisouly, how do i get outta here

**serpent’s husband:** Absolutely not! You promised to leave Crowley alone!

**sexy devil:** I did, that’s why you’re here too

**sexy devil:** would saying it’s for the… greater good help

**serpent:** would saying _i never want to go back downstairs, never ever ever_ help

**maze runner:** come on, don’t be a pussy

**maze runner:** the throne’s got the best wifi and all

**serpent’s husband:** Then why don’t you sit on it, hmm?

**maze runner:** can’t, I’m not an angel

**sexy devil:** you can even have the throne if you want[3], I’ll be happy to get rid of it and stay on earth forever

**lady death:** That won’t work no matter how many angels you offer, Luci, and you know that.

**sexy devil:** but a devil can try, can’t he

**serpent:** not in a million yrs, a day was enought

**serpent’s husband:** You weren’t there when he came home on the 27th and told me it was one of the worst nights of his life!

**serpent’s husband:** So you are _not_ taking Crowley. Not after what you tried to do to him last year. Not if I have a say in it.

**serpent:** thanksss angel

**sexy devil:** strictly speaking that was all beelzebub, hell wasn’t under my control

**flies all over:** …

**annoying brother:** And that’s the point here, Luci. That’s why you left Earth. It _has_ to be under your control.

**sexy devil:** you really want to see me rot down here, don’t u, brother

**annoying brother:** That’s not what I’m saying.

**maze runner:** then stay out of it or have an appointment w one of auntie maze’s knives

**serpent:** i quite like this one

**maze runner:** pfft everyone likes me

**sexy devil:** ok, fine, whatever, I’ll watch a bunch of demons riot over whatever they didn’t come to appreciate today, it’s not like I have something better to do on earth

**sexy devil:** and do tell, how’s eve

**serpent’s husband:** Eve?

**maze runner:** we tried a new sex swing a couple times today

**maze runner:** and had dinner, it was…romantic

**sexy devil:** I’m glad to hear 😏

**serpent:** u don’t mean

**serpent’s husband:** The Eve? She’s back on Earth[4]?

**maze runner:** oh yea

**maze runner:** she’s my girlfriend

**serpent’s husband:** Deary me.

**serpent:** tell eve i say hi

**maze runner:** eve says: oh my g** are the snake demon who tempted me and the angel who gave me that flaming sword married now??? wow, plot twist of the millennium

**serpent:** we’re not

**serpent:** we’re not married

**serpent’s husband:** Definitely not married.

**sexy devil:** they still moved into a cottage together though

**serpent’s husband:** You know about that? _How_ [5]?

**sexy devil:** oh please

**sexy devil:** I’m the devil, I know everything

**serpent’s husband:** And you told Gabriel about it, I’m guessing?

**sexy devil:** dear father, why would I tell anyone, maze and amenadiel were also shagging for a few months and did I tell anyone? no

**sexy devil:** it was all way too amusing

**sexy devil:** well I did tell beelzebub, naturally, but you can trust zir, devil’s honour

**serpent:** u said t hat about not forcing me to go down there too

**flies all over:** i told the doofus if u must know

**serpent:** HA

**serpent:** also why are u even here

**flies all over:** lurking

**serpent’s husband:** Actually, the Almighty goes by female pronouns these days, to correct the “father”[6].

**serpent’s husband:** And amusing? _Amusing_? If someone else found out, we could’ve been killed, or worse, discorporated[7]!

**annoying brother:** Did you read Harry Potter? Was that a Harry Potter reference?

**maze runner:** did u

**annoying brother:** Good point

**serpent’s husband:** I owned a bookshop, of course I read Harry Potter.

**serpent:** oh yeah he’s a nerd

**serpent:** it’s adorable

**serpent:** forget i said that im a big bad demon with a reputation

**serpent’s husband:** Of course you are.

**serpent:** and are u tellin me that amenadiel

**serpent:** are u telling me that the righteous warrior, gods favourite, the firstborn child,

**serpent:** had sex with mazikeen of the lilim

**serpent:** repeatedly

**serpent:** and no one batted an eye

**serpent:** when I’m here fuckign worrying about my angel and what’s good and bad and what we should and shouldn’t do and whether 6000 years was an ok amount of time to _do something_?????

**maze runner:** it be like that sometimes

**annoying brother:** …

**sexy devil:** they actually had a threesome with linda, the mother of his son

**serpent:** holy fucking _somewhere_

**serpent’s husband:** Indeed…

**annoying brother:** Ok, you didn’t have to tell them _that_.

**sexy devil:** like I said, amusing

**sexy devil:** do you have _any idea_ how tedious it gets down here

**serpent:** as a matter of fact i do :)

**sexy devil:** but thank you for stopping the apocalypse again, that was much appreciated

**sexy devil:** how’s adam doing, anyway, my little antichrist?

**serpent:** u were never his father so don t start pretending to care now

**serpent:** and u made zira almost cry here so shut up and enjoy rebuilding hell

**maze runner: 👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾**

**maze runner:** drag him, serves him right for abandoning us and mainly chloe AGAIN

**purple bastard:** Anyone else having Heaven’s equivalent of popcorn[8] with that?

**lady death:** Possibly.

**serpent’s husband:** Oh no, you’re here too.

**flies all over:** are u _lurking_

**purple bastard:** Maybe

**flies all over:** congrats on learning something from demons 😁

**purple bastard:** Yeah, yeah, shut up, Bub.

**serpent:**?????

**serpent:** whats happening

**serpent’s husband:** I think they started talking.

**flies all over:** none of ur business

**purple bastard:** Why did we want to kill them, anyway?

**flies all over:** cocking up the apocalypse

**purple bastard:** Ah, yeah, that must be it.

**maze runner:** get out gabriel, no one invited u

**sexy devil:** for the last time I _did_

**purple bastard:** I’m the Archangel fucking Gabriel-

**serpent:** yea yeah we’ve heard that before

**serpent:** ciao im off 👋

**serpent’s husband:** So that went well…

**annoying brother:** For what it’s worth, Aziraphale, I’m sorry about Lucifer.

**sexy devil:** no, I’m sorry if it seems like I’m pushing you, it’s just that hell gets under your skin, I think you can imagine. you’re right, I collected my favour and released you

**serpent’s husband:** Thank you.

**purple bastard:** What’s that about the husband now?

**lady death:** You promised to leave them alone, Gabe.

**serpent:** we’re not married fjskdjajnfna

**sexy devil:** well, I know a perfect place in vegas should you ever need it ;)

**serpent:** I need nothing more from u

**serpent:** this time I’m really logging out!!!

**sexy devil:** do as you will, I am leaving you alone, and I’m sorry again

**serpent:** great

**serpent:** thanks

**maze runner:** ok so since archdouche gabriel clearly _isn’t_ leaving

**maze runner:** did u and bub fuck yet

**flies all over:** call me by my bloody title

**maze runner:** hmmm how about no 🔪

**purple bastard:** That’s not a topic we should be discussing!

**sexy devil:** I say we should

**sexy devil:** and that they did 😈

**flies all over:** _why_

**flies all over:** and how the fuck do u _know_

**sexy devil:** let’s see, you went away and didn’t wear the sash so it was clearly not a business meeting

**sexy devil:** when u came back the next morning, your jacket was buttoned wrong and there were some rather obvious marks on your neck only another celestial can leave on a demon

**sexy devil:** as far as I know, you don’t have a demon lover, and the implications of the last conversation made it clear enough you were meeting gabriel

**sexy devil:** I know you met before, too

**sexy devil:** I did do some digging before I came dragging you out of the measly office below; why do you think I chose to trust you so quickly? I mean, half of that was not having found anyone better, but

**serpent’s husband:** I beg your pardon, _what_?

**annoying brother:** It would be easier if you just read up, Zira.

**lady death:** All the way to 4 May…

**maze runner:** hgahghg yeah

**lady death:** What was _that_

**maze runner:** laughing

**serpent:** what the ????????

**serpent:** u two were

**serpent:** what

**serpent:** you too??????

**serpent:** HYPOCRITES

**serpent:** I hate mu life

**maze runner:** I thought u were logging off

**serpent:** that was a lie I was reading on zira’s old arse mobile

**sexy devil:** this is actually a recent development 😁

**purple bastard:** …

**flies all over:** …

**purple bastard:** He’s right.

**flies all over:** shut up

**purple bastard:** But we have everything documented in all the proper paperwork, should anyone ask, so unlike _you two_ , we’re not backstabbing _traitors_.

**maze runner:** not sure u got that right birdbrain

**serpent:** um

**flies all over:** _shut up_

**charlie’s demons:** ok was anybody gonna tell me they shagged or was I supposed to read that here myself

**serpent:** and who r YOU

**charlie’s demons:** dantalion

**serpent:** d??? hey

**serpent:** where’ve u been

**charlie’s demons:** with some time travellers

**serpent:** hnnngggg sure

**serpent:** anyone else got news

**lady death:** I don’t believe you know I’m friends with Ella.

**serpent:** k, death is friends with humans now,

**serpent:** maze and eve are together

**serpent:** amenadiel has a nephilim son

**serpent:** gabriel and beelzebub are shagging and writing reports abt it

**serpent:** d is a bloody time traveller

**serpent:** does that about sum this shitstorm up

**charlie’s demons:** im also dating a human whos actually from the future

**sexy devil:** and they arranged a tgp binge-watch for heaven and hell

**serpent:** tgp??? my favourite show??

**purple bastard:** The show was actually pretty good.

**flies all over:** demons got all hooked

**flies all over:** ugh

**sexy devil:** but they get my concept now!

**sexy devil:** they like the renovations even less, but they get it!

**serpent:** it was my concept but whateverrrrr

**serpent:** also i need actual alcoohl not just biscuits

**annoying brother:** Good thing we didn’t tell them about the cards…

**lady death:** Didn’t we 👀

**annoying brother:** Sorry

**serpent’s husband:** I’m almost too afraid to ask.

**purple bastard:** Good, stay out of it,

**charlie’s demons:** so much teas been spilt today

**sexy devil:** who knew angels and demons were all old gossips

**serpent’s husband:** Everyone?

**sexy devil:** and that’s just perfect, isn’t it, a bunch of demons got through the guards and demand to enter my office off hours, yelling about the old order cos of _course_ they always disagree with something

**sexy devil:** when it’s not about being pushed to do their jobs it’s about being pushed to shower

**sexy devil:** I never even said it was mandatory, I just suggested it at a council meeting! and it’s not like I’m changing the chain of command and demoting anyone…

**sexy devil:** *sigh* I have to go handle it, have fun

**flies all over:** need help

**flies all over:** I tried a shower[9] and it was…excuse my human… good

**sexy devil:** at least someone is decent here

**purple bastard:** I wouldn’t say decent-

**maze runner:** ur the one to _talk_ ;)

**serpent:** wel _sorry_ I don’t wanna come down there when it got _worse_

**flies all over:** he should’ve seen it coming tho

**serpent:** _exactly_

**sexy devil:** I already apologised, and yes, you might have a point, I’ll need to call you later

**serpent:** k I’ll be taking a walk

**serpent’s husband:** He really just took the bottle and… left.

**charlie’s demons:** what are u waiting for go after him

**serpent’s husband:** No, he needs to clear his head and walking along the beach is sort of his thing these days. I’ll go read a book. Goodbye, dear angels and demons!

**flies all over:** ugh he’s making my stomach sick

**maze runner:** one moment he’s yelling at u and the next he’s polite what even

**purple bastard:** Be glad you didn’t have to deal with him for _forever_.

**flies all over:** we are

**annoying brother:** Be nice! Frankly, Heaven needs more angels like Zira.

**lady death:** We miss you up here, brother.

**annoying brother:** My place is on Earth with my son, Rae. You know it is.

**lady death:** Yeah…

**lady death:** But I guess Gabriel’s on a path to awareness and before you know it, Michael will be seeing her Fallen wife openly and demons will be admitting all of their feelings didn’t fade away.

**charlie’s demons:** michael has a fallen wiFE WHAT

**purple bastard:** So _that’s_ what she meant by _backchannels_.

**annoying brother:** She does, but I didn’t know they were in touch.

**purple bastard:** Me neither.

**purple bastard:** The cards were her idea, weren’t they.

**lady death:** They were Castiel’s idea, but she suggested we could invite _both_ clerks on stairwell guard duty and it sort of… spiralled from there.

**charlie’s demons:** huh

**maze runner:** ur _way_ too smartass

**lady death:** DEATH KNOWS ALL.

**God:** Well played, dear child, but only I know all. And I shall tell you this: be not afraid, for all will work out in the end.

**maze runner:** what the fuck

* * *

1 Lucifer didn’t particularly care that it wasn’t true; he couldn’t just name the contact “annoying angel 124”, now could he? And while he didn’t consciously realise it, it _might_ have had something to do with pushing them the right way.[✿]

2 It was for a birthday party he was invited to by the same friends who convinced him to go the last time. Yes, they were idiots for thinking it wasn’t a big deal, what of it?[✿]

3 He knew he didn’t want it, but he _did_ have all those good ideas and enough leadership potential, as proven three weeks ago, so it couldn’t hurt to try anyway. His brain still hasn’t given up on finding suitable replacements. It was starting to lean heavily towards Beelzebub, though, and hoping they could get there.[✿]

4 This particular piece of news hadn’t made it into the newspaper. You can guess why.[✿]

5 Aziraphale didn’t read the end of their first text conversation where Crowley confirmed they were in the same place at the same time, and didn’t at the moment realise that he must have known about it if he’d sent Beelzebub over there with zir message a month earlier.

As for the _how_ , he had used his celestial senses and deductive skills and done some recon. It wasn’t that hard to find the day the bookshop closed for good, the newspaper advert, and the removal company when you had all the resources of Hell and the good Wi-Fi at your disposal.[✿]

6 Lucifer was somewhat dumbfounded. Why on _Earth_ has no one bothered informing his sooner? Bloody _typical_. He made a note to call God by the correct pronouns from now on, and wondered how long he’s been messing it up. He might be the Devil, but misgendering someone on purpose was too evil unless completely necessary for the situation, like around a strongly transphobic aunt of a closeted person, and held no place in his castle.[✿]

7 Ever since Gabriel and Beelzebub showed up _inside_ their house, Aziraphale has started to be somewhat suspicious and hasn’t entirely believed that they were _actually_ leaving them alone. He was fretful by nature, remember? He was good at forgetting about it with Crowley around, usually, but sometimes he couldn’t help himself. And things like that really brought out the badass—Crowley’s words—side of him.[✿]

8 It wasn’t “gross matter”. It was like balls of energy with a trace of taste that immediately dissolved on your tongue like candyfloss. Gabriel quite liked that. He only had such a strong distaste for _human_ food.[✿]

9 It was Gabriel’s idea. He remembered hotel rooms were supposed to have bathrooms, and a little high on the afterglow, as angels are, he convinced zir to try it. He had to reassure zir it wasn’t going to turn into Holy Water when he stepped under the stream, but ze eventually accepted and found out that it _did_ indeed do things to zir aura as he’d said, and that it was very disgustingly pleasing to get one’s hair all wet and _wash it_. So maybe that particular idea of Crowley’s wasn’t half so terrible—so to speak.[✿]


	13. in which god tells her story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we reached the exact half of this story, so here's a special chapter for you! god's narrative!
> 
> i took go canon, lucifer canon, science, the bible, a doctor who cameo (cos gallifrey being in crowley's book), my own beliefs, a few headcanons, and some philosophical thoughts and slapped together this infodump-y thesis on the ineffable plan and god's view. it's 6.9k without footnotes (which it doesn't have) lmao enjoy!!! <3

Dear reader, human, alien, or otherwise,

I heard you were interested in hearing what I have to say. That my little notes throughout the story weren’t enough for your curious little brains. Tsk tsk.

But then I thought, that’s what makes you _you_ : the infinite search for Knowledge. Of course you would ask. And of course I wouldn’t help myself and answer. Who says I can’t give a few details to you? _God knows_ , you love to say. And I do indeed know.

You’re not my Angels and Demons, floating around unaware and out of their depth. You will die before you can influence the Ineffable Plan in a significant way anyway—and believe me when I say you should take that as words of comfort.

For I am God, and it is _my_ creation and _my_ rules of _my_ game, and I can do with them as I please.

So let’s start at the beginning, roughly thirteen billion years ago.

No, the Universe wasn’t created six thousand years ago. That was the Earth. Weren’t you listening?

There was no light. There was merely nothingness, and out of that nothingness, I was born. Don’t ask me how. That is the one thing not even I possess the Knowledge of. I can say for certain that no one remembers their birth, and I am, sadly, not the exception to the rule.

Among all the nothingness I floated and floated and then ran for days. It was a very lonely couple of days, mostly because days haven’t been invented yet. Nothing has been. It was just gravity and subatomic particles and electromagnetism binding nothing at all. Until I met _her_. The Goddess of All Creation.

The word _god_ or _goddess_ had not existed back then, mind. We saw each other as nameless, lonely wanderers and something new and extraordinary. We were just like you. A boy and a girl.

Not that we’re enforcing heteronormativity here, of course. That’s a load of rubbish. We could have chosen to present in any way we liked; we just didn’t know it yet and wouldn’t find out until way later.

We fell in love.

There is a reason for the phrase: it was fast and abrupt and shattered our souls, if we ever had any. We didn’t know what it was and called it falling.

Then the Universe was, finally, born. Honestly, I don’t know how the joke about the Big Bang got to you, but I would bet it was Lucifer’s fault. It was, indeed, one big _bang_. I shall elect to keep _those_ details for myself.

With the Universe came Matter: something we could shape and create from, previously unheard of and strange to the touch. You come into a world already _made_ of Matter, so you can’t really imagine how it felt, but let’s try. It was grains, at first, shapeless and colourless like some sort of whirling bubble wrap, only without the bubbles and popping sounds. So not like bubble wrap at all. But it was malleable.

And so we Created.

That was about ten billion years ago. We have just grown out of the lusty, careless state of puberty and became young adults.

Here I should probably mention that for divine entities like us, time means something entirely, wonderfully different. What’s three billion in thirteen? For you, it is an unreachable, incredible number. For us, it is nothing at all. Let’s convert it to human years for clarity. In a lifespan of 85 years, three billion would be equivalent to 19.6 years.

The Universe was _not_ made in six days. Again, that was just the Earth.

Which is about 50 minutes old in the same relation to the average human lifespan, by the by. So if you think about it, Crowley and Aziraphale are actually rushing things like sports cars on a racing rink. But I’m getting ahead of myself here. My apologies.

In our sweet, sweet years, we made the very first stars and planets. Initially, there were six of them, and they weren’t very good. You probably wouldn’t know about them. They orbit around each other in the most faraway corner of the Universe, hidden in a proverbial cellar. As they say, you have to learn to walk before you can run, and this learning took a _lot_ of effort.

Then we reached five billion, or thirty-three years, and had an Idea. Matter was a thing, but something about the Universe still screamed empty. We looked at each other and thought, _why not try and create another being like us?_

Something told us this took a different approach, so we got back to the very enjoyable activity of making love and had a child. Thankfully, it was not known as the Second Big Bang.

We ourselves bore no names, but we named him Amenadiel, the Protector, and more recently Sword of God. Swords weren’t a thing back then, and neither was War.

Oh, how wonderful he had been, a perfect image of us both and a being of pure joy. He was like us in every aspect: a winged explorer, full of love and astonishment at everything he saw. But he was also lonely, not quite understanding his parents and needing someone else closer to his age, as children are wont to.

Unlike other children, he was less whiny and made creating more beings similar to him seem like an easy task. That was our first big mistake, which I still haven’t set right to this day. Does the Ineffable Plan ring any bells?

After a decade or six, we gave Amenadiel siblings. Four of them, two shaped like me, and two like my wife. We called them our angels, and that name stuck for all eternity. And then we gave them their own names, which brought them purpose. Michael, Uriel, Gabriel, and Raphael.

To this day, I cherish the memories of Michael chasing after his brother Uriel with a handful of stardust he wanted him to eat and see what happens, and of Amenadiel playing with his sisters’ hair. I remember looking at them and inventing new colours. Gold. Silver. Purple. Red.

I also remember finding out stardust was certainly not for angel consumption, although it could be distilled into the Universe’s first alcoholic drink. Those were fun times. They led to deciding children should not be allowed to drink, because it made them even more hyperactive, loud, and clumsy, and three out of five accidentally got discorporated.

You see, for us Matter is but optional. The seven of us were born in bodies, but we can live just as fine without them. It was an interesting new design too, back then, together with multiple pairs of wings and faces, and eyes that could always see everything and everywhere.

The five of them were the first in the orders of the Seraphim and Cherubim. They were also the first out of 15,001,500.

Yes, I am a perfectionist. Maybe you’ve noticed.

When the rest of the angels of what is now known as the First Sphere came to life, we tested out incorporeality and androgyny with the first thought of choices. Each of them bore an important role in what was the seed of my grand plan, and each was a mirror of an aspect of the Universe, which was slowly filling with _life_. Samael was the first of them, and he brought Light with his shining eyes and the brightest pairs of wings I have seen to that day.

He brought Light, and another Idea.

We called our home Heaven, and my wife and I sat on a pair of thrones and watched over our young offspring. Oh, they did nothing but play and sing and Create—plants, animals, elements, materials, _names_. Creation was easier when there were over five million angels rather than the mere two. We could finally sit back and go on a mental holiday.

It felt like a rather long, well-deserved weekend and came up with the concept of procrastination. I went as far as to appoint Metatron—without the self-important article in front of his name—as my Spokesman.

We also grew a little more distant.

Still, there could not be parents prouder of their children than we were of them. We loved them more than anything.

Non-celestial life forms weren’t invented yet, but I do see where Samael’s ideas came from, later.

The one time we allowed someone other than the Thrones to enter our chambers was when we asked our first-born angels to see the star and planets and make the rest of the nothingness that still occupied the Universe into a thing of beauty and colours. They were already reaching adulthood! Oh, how quickly time flew.

For us immortals, anyway.

The four of them created the Milky Way, and the Andromeda Galaxy, and Alpha Centauri, and millions of nebulae and constellations all over the Universe.

The two of us created ten million other angels—but we tried to go at it the matter-forming way again. See if we could make people out of thin air. You know, after fifty years of marriage, everyone gets just a little bit tired of the other and, well, _activities_.

It was one last attempt to save our relationship. It was inevitably failing, and the angels noticed. The Four noticed too, once they came back. It was the moment we invented lying.

I’m not proud of what I had done, then. But you can rest assured that even gods can have a midlife crisis and laugh at us as much as you want. I think it’s sort of funny too, on the grand scale of things. We’re more alike than you realise.

My wife and I relocated to separate palaces to calm the oncoming storm down, and I continued to Create. I gave names to all my brilliant, young children—which was quite a challenge, mind, so many words to make up! They started repeating themselves after a while. Take Aziraphale. It meant _also Raphael_ , that. Just a fancy way to say Raphael II. And oh, there were countless more like him.

You try naming fifteen billion beings and see how you do. Just look at the Americans, giving their children all sorts of ridiculous names because they are trying to be creative and unconventional. _Warlock Dowling_!

That was merely the first step out of blooming chaos. Heaven needed to grow bigger. Everyone needed a job. Life needed a semblance of order.

I made the Virtues, the Dominions, the Powers, the Principalities, the Archangels, and the Angels. I put The Four, now called Archangels with an actual Capital A—a thing I was experimenting with, grammar—in charge of them and told them to guide them into their teenage years and well beyond.

Raphael was in charge of the Virtues, so no, she and Aziraphale haven’t met yet. But they were going to. Raphael always liked spending time with the others and telling them rank did not really matter. She shook hands—another experiment on our part—with every single one of the new angels. She loved singing for them, unlike Gabriel and Michael, who were getting used to being in charge and growing a thing called ego.

That was when I got the idea of a true Divine Plan, and the names did indeed have something to do with it. You will see; just read on.

For it to work, I needed other, brand new beings, different from our kind.

That was about 6.5 billion years ago, so no, they were _not_ humans. I told you aliens existed some time ago, didn’t I? This was where they came into play.

I called Gabriel and Raphael into my chambers some five years later and broached the idea to them. New life forms! A completely different DNA! Living on a planet, perhaps! Raphael caught onto the idea immediately, and I knew I had made the right choice. She Created something you might call a tablet out of thin air and began talking about her favourite planets and all the placed they had made, with a pitch from Gabriel every now and then about how these new beings would live and what would be their Purpose.

It was guarding Time itself and creating the laws of physics. We put them on a randomly selected planet, which Raphael had named Gallifrey, and imbued them with Knowledge and actual corporeal bodies. We based those on nothing in particular and gave them the ability to change when faced with death, not unlike we did.

The archangel Azrael assumed the role of Death. She called herself one of the Endless and created the concept of Afterlife. I asked, _where will they go, if they aren’t Alive?_ and she said, _well, to Heaven, of course. To us._

Upon which we built new buildings and departments and put the angels into more work: guiding and guarding and teaching. It needed regulations. It helped make Heaven into the Bureaucracy it is today. Quite regrettably.

We left Time to them and we ourselves became the guardians of Space in all its dimensions. There were five so far, and the number later grew to fifteen. You probably wouldn’t know about those either, but some extraterrestrials do, and even live in them. Not everyone is as mentally and technologically inept as humans; pardon the slight insult if you happen to be one. It is on purpose.

We ourselves come from the last one, which is where our wings go when they aren’t manifested.

Yes, I have wings too, and no, I do _not_ look like an old, bearded man in a white cloak. I never did, not even when I still assumed a mostly male form. That was a prank on someone else’s part and brought me many surprised questions every time someone laid their eyes on me, because _of course_ it somehow caught on.

However, you can surely imagine that one became quite bored after a while, with only one other species floating on one other planet. The only thing we could do about it was Creation, and so in the course of five billion years, we made hoards of new sentient life. We took away a DNA strand there, added some hair there, played around with sex there, exchanged lungs for gills and gills for lungs there, and voila, we had a fully functional, self-sustaining ecosystem.

Most of it was based on the physiology of animals, some of it on ourselves, some of it on the already created sentient people, though what they had in common was diversity. And a certain lack of power and technologies, at first. Imagine Ancient Greece. Now imagine if they had smartphones during the first Olympic Games. A bad idea, isn’t that?

We, of course, had them. Useful things, inspired by the holographic tablet Raphael had once made. I believe he as Crowley brought them to Earth in the 21st century after both as a helpful, Heavenly tool and a path to Hell for thousands of humans who got addicted. A win-win in his books, really.

Either way, I kept asking myself, _what if_? What if we let them discover their full potential, give them what we have, teach them how to travel among the stars? What if we loved them like we love each other? And I kept on giving.

That was the beginning of a downfall.

Or was it really?

In any case, it was the beginning of the literal Downfall.

Some of my children started to question my orders and decisions, which they all thought of as absolute and infallible before—although they hardly were; I merely had the advantage of being a Parent and therefore having an aura of Authority and Infinite Knowledge. Everything I did was really a shot in the dark. It came with being the first being in all of Existence. I had no one to copy the homework from, so I had to do it all by myself, without a ruler or a calculator or even lessons, only for everyone to try and copy it from _me_ because they saw me as the smart kid who always knew the answers to everything.

Don’t tell that to the angels if you meet them. They would be struck with another case of existential crisis at the worst time possible. We don’t need that to happen just yet.

The first time around, they slowly grew tired of each other, just as my wife and I grew even further apart, and started to Talk.

Samael, my wonderful Samael, he was always a gifted spokesman. This time he grabbed the box and stood on it in front of everyone. He openly started to spread words against my new creations and _me_.

It broke my heart.

Not because I didn’t want anyone to question me, but because they arrived at the wrong conclusions. I did not love the lower beings more than them. I was paying more attention to them, and there was a significant difference there. My angels, they have been in my care for billions of years. Everyone else was new to the thing called living. They needed supervision.

I loved everyone equally. That was the Point, and most of my children missed it.

Nevertheless, things were going exactly according to the Plan I had written years and years ago—because every parent knows that at one point or another, their children will rebel against them and start hating them purely on principle. I knew that too. I had an incredible sense of intuition and a grasp on Time itself, still.

And as every parent knows, you must show your children some discipline and make them do all the chores for a week if they misbehave, and then show a gentle hand to let them know you still love them and will love them no matter what. The only difference between my children and yours was that celestials were harder to control, and had no chores to perform besides some paperwork now and then.

And instead of a small fight between siblings that ended with one insulting the other and getting slapped with a pillow, a war, later known as the Great War, broke out.

I told my wife what I intended to do with the rebelling angels, but she disagreed with me. Our own argument ended with the one thing I had not planned for.

She went Down with the 5,647,362 angels who Fell, but not as one of them. As Hell’s first inhabitant.

My angels wanted free will, not knowing they already had it. They had a choice: to stay, or to fall. To guide and teach, or to take care of the incorrigible ones and make sure they learn their lessons the hard way. And they chose.

I didn’t plan for who was to become a demon. I let them go on their own. I wrote Part Two of my Plan after.

The only one who had to go was my second daughter, the one with the fiery hair and love for the stars she had made, the one dubbed Healer. Raphael. She asked more questions than anyone else. She was doing the right thing. Oh, how proud of her I was. I told her she had to Fall for it, and cried—in fact, I am crying right now, _damn_ those old emotions—when I sent her to Hell. The Knowledge of what she would do, that she would be the one to help deliver the Universal equilibrium I aimed for, was my only consolation.

So Raphael Fell, remembering everything and retaining more of her original might and beauty than any other demon. I gave her as much. And she did the wise thing: she hid. She subconsciously made herself a serpent. She transformed her body into that of a male. He never showed his first pair of star-speckled wings, deep green and blue and silver on black. He never showed anyone his verdant eyes and convinced even _himself_ the yellow, serpentine slits were a part of him forever. Samael—no, Lucifer—bestowed the name of Crawly upon him with a nod of acknowledgement and let him go, not needing anyone getting between him and his new kingdom.

The thing about Crowley is, he _can_ make his eyes into what they once were. It’s just that he _doesn’t_ , because every last Fallen in Hell and angel in Heaven would recognise the pair of emeralds with a touch of gold on sight. That would only bring trouble.

But oh, Aziraphale is in for a treat one day, and possibly a heart attack.

I am getting ahead of myself again, yes, I know. We haven’t even got to the creation of Earth yet.

If you’re wondering whether the Solar System already existed and there was an Earth-sized gap in it, it _did_ exist, but there was another planet where Earth would later be. It blew up and made a convenient spot for a brand new planet by the time the year 4004 BC rolled around.

It was all rather like _Star Wars_. Sometimes, free will did lead to destruction, as one of the Endless, Destruction, would tell you. I had to put up quite the effort to save the people of Mars from the shockwave. It was the second-to-last time I directly interfered where that particular system was concerned.

There was also life on Jupiter, Saturn, and Uranus, if you’re wondering about that too. They all were, and still are, incorporeal. Inspired by our own forms, you see. Because not everyone needs water or oxygen to live. That’s the beauty in Creation.

Let’s circle back now, shall we?

Before the Fall, I had come to learn that the Universe required a balance. Two sides. There had only been one, and it was starting to fall apart. Heaven was running out of room, and not everyone lived a virtuous life, not even under our guidance. I knew I couldn’t rule two realms at the same time—there’s only so far you can go with cloning—so I came to the dreadful realisation that one of my children had to do it.

At first, I thought it would be Amenadiel, but he was too important up here. So of course it had to be him. My Lightbringer. He was the only one who could bear to rule the terrible kingdom and not go mad. He knew that when he had a duty, it had to be fulfilled, and was stubborn enough to get through, thinking he was doing the opposite of what I wanted.

He led the rebellion, and became the second one accounted for in the Plan. He Fell as a leader, strong and mighty and the second one never to lose all of his Grace. I had faith that he would rise to power and create a functional order just like in Heaven. I was right to do so.

Where’s the free will, then, you ask? Is Lucifer still following orders, even in Hell?

He is, and isn’t. He doesn’t know that he is. He knows that I am testing him and everyone else. And he _does_ have free will. He and everyone else are _also_ simultaneously following my Ineffable Plan. 

The Plan is, indeed, written somewhere else, in bigger letters, twice underlined. The Great Plan was merely a part of it covering the first 6022 years of earth’s existence, and everyone was an _idiot_ for forgetting that. I knew I could count on Raphael at least, and good thing I did, or I might have actually had to go and stop the war myself.

That would have been embarrassing.

So, looking at the big picture, everyone is where they are supposed to be. Have been for a billion years now.

After the Fall, Heaven was shortly in disarray. Some angels went down together with their siblings and families, but most were separated and mourned the loss of their beloved ones, just as I did. Uriel had lost a lover. Michael had lost a wife. Gabriel had lost a love _and_ a dear sister. They were only on the top of the pyramid.

They grew colder and more resolute in everything they were doing. The bureaucracy became worse. There was nothing I could do.

No, that’s a lie. There was nothing I _wanted_ to do about it because I _knew_ I couldn’t.

Hell, on the other hand, was thriving. There were some fights, of course, but once Lucifer sat on his high chair and bellowed orders at everyone below, two pairs of wings on display and face twisting, things calmed down. He appointed the formerly high-ranking angels as Princes and Dukes, and assigned duties to everyone. There were sinners awaiting punishment, after all.

In the meantime, I Created more people. Some of them you might call gods. I even Created one from _me_. You might call him God too. You might call him Allah. You might call him my twin, or clone, or a part of my essence, or even the same person. It does not matter. We each govern a half of the vast space called the Universe.

I Created more Universes the same way I created Him.

I Recreated myself. Tried a different body and different pronouns. I kept this form in the honour of my wife and my first Fallen daughter.

I took the Universes and gave them to the new divine entities, saying, _go, maybe you’ll do better than I did_.

Right now, my wife is, hopefully, somewhere nice, doing the same. Building a world for herself. I could even check if I wanted to, but I feel like that would be too dangerous. I do think of her often, nonetheless.

Lucifer giving her the chance was another thing I did not plan for. She was never written in the Plan. She is often forgotten by you, too. Maybe it’s for the best. And in the moment Lucifer cut that hole in the fabric of this Universe with Aziraphale’s—Azrael’s—who knows whose, if not me—Flaming Sword, he did something unexpected and passed his test.

How? By showing proving me right, of course. The Fallen _had_ a capacity for change. Cooperation. Mercy. Being Heavenly. And humans were worth loving and saving. He saw my point, and if Lucifer could, so could everyone else. 

Lucifer didn’t know about it. He continued living his life with the police and walked the path all the way from LA back to Hell. Spoiler alert: it won’t be a long visit.

After the Multiverse spun to life, I was left with an unfinished Plan and little too much time. The angels… they had to learn to cope with problems on their own. The demons had to think I had rejected them. So I came up with her: Earth.

One snap of my fingers, and a planet popped into existence between Venus and Mars. Seven continents—perhaps not those you have in mind; Atlantis was still a thing then, while Australia wasn’t—oceans, deserts, forests, mountains, and not much more than that at first. The rest was up to the humans.

First, I wrote the Great Plan, or as I secretly called it, The One Big Trap You Will All Fall For and I’ll Be There Laughing. Six thousand years, a final war, all that nonsense. I made it Known.

Then I came up with the blueprints for Eden and its inhabitants themselves. I borrowed the time-proven corporation design and took some clay, because God or not, creating a whole planet depleted one’s force so. I spent five days working on it without a single break, mind. It was a Universal record in the Olympic discipline of Creation of Planets.

On the sixth day, I Created Adam and Lilith—as adults rather than as adorable toddlers. It made things easier. You would get tired of raising children too if you were doing it for as long as I did.

Lilith had little too much temper to her and came running straight out of the Garden and into Hell when she met a demon on a stroll, out of her own free will, and had lots and lots of demonic babies. They slowly began to fill the population of Hell and balanced the number of demons and angels, putting both somewhere around ten million.

Yes, it was planned.

Adam seemed to be smart enough even with a mere double helix and didn’t want to run away. A success rate of fifty per cent was good enough, so I went on to create Eve from his rib. Yes, it sort of _was_ incest. We don’t care. It was the first draft of this experiment, anyway. Or did you really think the entire human population could come from _two people_? Study some genetics.

In Eden, the couple thrived, and I thought, _this can work_. They were independent but still easily corruptible and prone to temptation. I wanted to test them. And Crowley came exploring right away. He found the apples, which were put there for a _reason_ , why the top of a _mountain_? I _wanted_ them to eat them.

Lucifer noticed too, and noticed Crowley’s discovery. He made the demon arrange him a meeting with these new beings, who were so much like those because of whom they Fell and so _close_ , with the notion of being curious and thinking he was thwarting my plans once again.

Crowley made them eat the apples. It didn’t do much of anything, really, they were just apples. But they discovered Taste and Hunger and all those things, all the way to Lust. And Lucifer was waiting. On his order, Crowley tempted Eve into trying something other than food, taking anything she wanted, noticing there wasn’t just Adam. It was an extremely mortifying situation for him.

He might tell you later, if he gets drunk enough to want to.

You know this story. Eve became intimate with Lucifer. And Adam and Lucifer both, later. And then she watched the two of _them_ and enjoyed herself.

I made sure the children she would have came from Adam, as there was no time for Antichrists yet, and deeming them ready for starting the first trial, I put Aziraphale on Guard Duty. He was never quite like the others. He was what angels were like Before.

He took mercy on them and gave them the Sword. They survived and had a pair of twins. That didn’t work out well. Cain, well. You know what Amenadiel did with him, and how he ended up. He was a means to an end. I did actually ensure someone apologised to him on my behalf.

They had more children after that, but not unlike me, Eve grew to resent Adam. She still yearned for Lucifer, that single bit of excitement she had known, up until her death some 200 years later.

I left their children alive, deciding I should shorten the species’ lifespan by a half or so if I wanted to see them progress fast enough, and made five thousand more humans with Knowledge already imbued in their DNA. Humanity 2.0.

They settled in the Fertile Crescent, founded the first villages, and grew their first crops.

And so, Earth was go.

The angels and the demons did their part: they blessed and tempted them, thinking they were working for the Great Plan, while really, humans needed none of that to become who they were supposed to be: just that. _Human_. Doing good or bad or neutral deeds all by themselves.

Crowley liked them. Of course he did. It was always in his nature. So without rank or a task to perform, he filled all the right forms and applied for the position of a field agent on Earth. Lucifer approved it about a year later, and Crowley went to the newest continent of Australia.

There were humans there too, as of that moment. I added a few in the Americas and Africa too and sent angelic field agents their way, knowing demons would inevitably come too. None of them developed a friendship between each other, to my disappointment. None but two.

The Australians took to worshipping Crowley as a snake god and calling him the Rainbow Serpent. I laughed at the irony of that. He mostly enjoyed himself and for the first time since the Fall, relaxed enough to try and change back to being female. The humans noticed, and if they weren’t convinced she wasn’t a god before, they were then.

Humans were silly. She clearly wasn’t going to correct them, and neither was I. I got the idea of television watching that situation unfold, and, obviously, of rainbows. None of the other continents has seen one before; Crowley made it rain over the dry land and one showed up, a naturally occurring phenomenon. The humans thought it was a good omen. I gave them a silent nod for their creativity.

She tempted people and punished sinners. She healed, Created things, and became a patroness of women. She proved my point six thousand years before Lucifer did, when she was Crowley and Raphael both.

After she left Australia, she went where the majority of humans lived: Mesopotamia. She knew she was being watched over there, so she went back to being a he, and then met Aziraphale for the second time since Eden. My Plan was gathering speed.

The Rainbow Serpent became a well-known myth. In the 20th century, humans got the idea of rainbows symbolising the LGBT community because of the Serpent’s gender fluidity and bisexuality.

Crowley might tell you about that one day, too.

Sometimes, angels, demons, extraterrestrials, and common deities in various religions superimpose onto each other. In the old days, humans used to make gods out of anyone with more DNA helixes than they had. You would be surprised to find out who they truly are—because yes, most of them are real beings living somewhere among the stars.

At first, I allowed the other races to visit. They were all curious. Zeus is still mad at me for disallowing it some two thousand years later.

And while we’re at it: I couldn’t just have everyone on the planet know they didn’t belong, so I took some old bones and scraps from various other planets, miracled them into the ground, and put together a rather sloppy, false backstory, from which they drew their own conclusions and created History.

I wonder when will someone realise the truth and see the joke. I also hope humanity won’t be too pissed.

I trust you learnt about the actual history that came after at school or anthropology seminars most planets offer, so I won’t go into too many details. Humanity continued to thrive, and the hosts of Heaven and Hell were diligently preparing for the Second Great War, which would never come.

Humans played their part in that too, albeit unaware. They worked centuries upon centuries on creating the concepts of War, Famine, and Pestilence, who didn’t even get his five minutes of glory, and slammed his crown onto the floor on a fit of rage before he retired to a small island and gave the office over to Pollution.

Death was an Endless, neither here nor there. She was her own person and the only one of the Horsepersons to actually Exist, and she knew what was up. SHE KNEW (almost) ALL.

They were also trotting about, inventing things and thinking by themselves. We were observing. All three remaining Archangels were stationed in the Earth Department, as were most Princes of Hell, and paid attention to everything that was going down.

The angels took it as their duty and didn’t so much as blink in protest. For the demons, it was everything they had fought against. Their true test.

Despite the odds, some of them started to get close. Some stayed and didn’t like going back to Hell. And one particular demonic individual kept meeting with their angelic counterpart and going for lunch dates. I know of their every move.

I admit, I did get a little too involved there. They are, however, practically the focus of Part Two of my Plan, not to mention the Bet, so it is perfectly justifiable, wouldn’t you agree? You know you would.

I assume you would also want to know about the Bet. 

At the beginning, I told some of the other divinities about my Trap Plan. I was drunk on stardust wine, if you must know. I told them about the crucial involvement of the one who was once Raphael and the one named _also Raphael._ Soulmates, if you will. We all saw that interaction on Eden’s walls.

There’s the name thing, see? I was very clever.

They, of course, promptly got on board and we started a betting pool on how long will it take those two to get _together_ together. I gave them 6100 years. Freyja said just before the Apocalypse-that-won’t-be. Dionysus said 7000 years. Kamadeva said a month and lost right away, and so did Hermes with his 2000 years. Thoth wasn’t very faithful and said 10000 years. He won’t tell me what he owes me because _it’s not time yet_ … He loves being annoyingly cryptic—and that’s coming from me.

You know the most of this part as well, so I shall refrain from describing each of their meetings in excruciating detail. We’d be here for four thousand years at least.

I shall tell you this: this particular couple is merely the first, and there are more to come. Naturally, I have plans for my other children too. Crowley and Aziraphale haven’t really known each other Before, but many have, and those are the ones who need the push.

Gabriel did actually astonish me with his actions. If I put my money on him, I would give him and Beelzebub—once known as Jehoel, the fiery Seraph no one dared touch if they valued their life for she was _his_ —until the 3000s. He hadn’t taken her Falling lightly. Despite his quick acceptance of the Great Plan being one big celestial scam, he was _not_ so eager to throw away his prejudice and ignorance in favour of fixing long-buried relationships.

It was, all in all, a nice surprise.

An Archangel and a Prince should always give the ones below them a perfect example, so things are on the right path, I would like to think. I watch my children’s little card game meetings with as much passion as someone like me can hold in their body, and am patiently waiting for the developments of the next one. Perhaps Michael could pull up her socks this time?

In my calculations, getting my estranged children to cooperate on a civil level and learn to understand each other again will take quite the while yet, but I trust that they will get there with the Archangels’ help eventually.

_Trust?_ _What do you mean, trust?_

Ah, well. You see, the Ineffable Plan isn’t written in its entirety even now, and never will be.

Right now, everyone stands at a crossroads. I believe the idiom about crossing bridges when you get to them would be appropriate to use here. They all follow my Plan, but not in the way you might think. Remember what I said about free will?

They follow the Plan by making the right decisions. Only they—only you—can direct your own path. They have a choice, and Part Three depends on which way they go. They can refuse. They can go to war. Then it would be a tragic, disappointing story ending with me telling them off as if they were five-year-olds and giving them the clues. That would be no fun, honestly.

Or they can choose to walk the path towards understanding, the one I’m hoping I have set them on. Then I would continue to Plan and Write and Create and make it so the Universe will be balanced and all life forms will cohabit in perfect harmony, as it should be.

The petty family squabble all of this really is would become bygones and everyone could go and have that dinner and a nice eight-hour sleep before going to work again.

I might even sign off the interplanetary contact forms extraterrestrials keep sending my way. They are mostly interested in Earth holidays, should you wonder. The destinations hardest to get a visa for are the ones most tempting. It’s all about biting the forbidden fruit, over and over.

And speaking of balance—no, demons will not Rise and come back. They chose Falling once, and now they have to stay. There has to be a dark side to the light one. That is their role now. They can, however, learn to live more freely and, well, cleanly. That part of the Plan is already in progress; thank you, Crowley.

We mustn’t forget Lucifer, of course. _His_ role is still the hardest. Although, why do you think I pushed Chloe his way?

Yes, that is for you to figure out. Yes, I _am_ aware that you have more questions than answers right now. But that’s the point of being human.

Ask questions. Live. Love. Laugh. It’s a cliché motto, I know, but it is Nice and Accurate.

With eternal love,

The Very Important Celestial Being You Call God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i read about the [rainbow serpent](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rainbow_Serpent) one day and came to the obvious conclusion it's 100% crowley and it's my favourite headcanon that goes hand in hand with him being raphael ok please spread it???????
> 
> there will indeed be a flashback chapter about that + the temptation of eve + crowley telling az about him being raphael, and it'll be from his pov so definitely funnier. also the rainbow serpent is a literal dc comics (hellblazer) character so the crossover is there, i don't make the rules
> 
> and yeah i know i write crowley in a bit of a different way but honestly, that only comes from the raphael thing. i don't see him in between an angel and a demon like lucifer is. he's just a demon who chooses to do good along with the bad. god is biased


	14. in which lucifer is having an exceptionally bad day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the slight delay. it's all because i took tuesday off and spent the whole day going through the ineffable bureaucracy tag and reading all the one-shots that were there. and i really read them ALL. that ship owns me now. anyway—looks like i'm cancelling the mon-thu updates and updating whenever i write a chapter. it should still be twice a week, i hope.

Lucifer let out what must have been the millionth deep sigh of the day.

Frustration took over the need to appear properly royal and lounge on his throne-chair with a glass of a good-looking alcoholic beverage in hand. He stopped caring he was seen and actually let his head drop onto the arms folded on top of a pile of request forms on his desk, which somehow escaped Dagon’s hold and decided they needed to go to the higher powers all on their own—or at least, that was what everyone _claimed_.

‘Bloody _hell_ ,’ Lucifer muttered into the fabric covering his arms, ‘they want _what_ now?’

Beelzebub glanced at Belial and raised a you-say-it-this-is-too-below-me kind of eyebrow at him. The demon sluggishly shook his head and shot zir a reciprocal look. Lucifer didn’t witness the exchange. If he did, he might have called them children.

Ze cleared zir throat and repeated the large, green-gel words written in a good half of the files. ‘Paid leave. On Earth. They threatened to tear down the club[1] and go on strike for a month if they don’t get it.’

Right. He hasn’t read it wrong, then.

The demons have _finally_ accepted their continuous bureaucratic roles and started to work like clockwork again, especially when promised premiums for Plant Caretaking and Keeping Their Workplace Clean[2] and given comfy chairs, but then they had to go and demand _more_. Of course.

Maybe he shouldn’t have let them get addicted to Earth television, but that ship has sailed and sunk somewhere near Atlantis without a chance at ever resurfacing.

_How_ did he end up here, you ask?

Good question. Lucifer would probably tell you it was all Crowley’s fault[3].

During their last phonecall, he connected the words “team-building activities” with “cinema Fridays” and suggested that Lucifer should build an auditorium where demons could meet up after work and watch more Earth telly. _The Good Place_ was met with roaring success, and so was _Miracle Workers_ and about any series that had celestial beings in it. Hell was currently on a _Supernatural_ binge and managed to watch four seasons in two Fridays.

It was all about time manipulation, should you wonder.

In doing so, the demons did indeed start to enquire more about Earth and Earth-related things. The wave of rumours reached all the way to Pandæmonium[4], and Dagon’s office was _flooded_ with forms from Mars Department, requesting permission to organise similar functions.

Lucifer told her to sign them off and thought how well and fast things were progressing.

An unnamed Duke even went as far as to suggest a wing-grooming circle since they were all sitting on the floor together anyway. Perhaps you’ve heard that demons liked to take proper care of their wings and prided themselves in their shapes and colours, unlike the angels, who let their wings out to give them a brush maybe once a century[5] because Pride was a sin. So of course they manifested their wings[6] and worked on their feathers as they followed the adventures of Sam and Dean Winchester.

They, obviously, hated that they killed all the demons and booed when Castiel showed up. Some of them knew that one personally when they were still in Heaven. Also, demons were often biased.

Good thing they didn’t reach the season with Crowley[7] in it yet.

This, however, was merely the kick-start of the influx of petty requisitions.

The other shoe dropped when Beelzebub took the squad of Neron’s remaining associates and threw them into soapy water rather than its holier counterpart. Ze _was_ tasked with taking care of them _and_ showing demons the recently discovered benefits of personal hygiene, wasn’t ze? Ze presented the idea to the Council, who approved it with a stamp and a series of nods, thinking the Prince was being incredibly resourceful for a demon, and off into a bubbly pool they went.

Nevertheless, Lucifer couldn’t have the traitors parading on the planet they still wished to conquer even after _all this time_. He went and poured half of the infinite jug of Holy Water into the pool later; but not before everyone saw how blissful they looked in the pink, rose-scented foam despite claiming to hate it and was hit with the thought of trying it out too.

As it turned out after that, Beelzebub was not the only resourceful one. And the disease started to _spread_. What Lucifer once thought to be his clever plan for making demonkind see the good in, well, _good in general_ slowly started turning against him when their demands became more and more difficult.

Lucifer didn’t like it when his own plans backfired.

No, correction: he didn’t like it when _Crowley’s_ bloody plans backfired, and the serpent _knew_ it so he didn’t pick up his bloody _phone_ and let Lucifer simmer at this meeting.

‘My Lord?’ asked Belial when Lucifer took too long to respond.

He begrudgingly lifted his head and surveyed the documents again. ‘They can jump straight into lava if they think I’m giving them paid leave on Earth, honestly,’ he said, shaking his head. He took a long sip of the scotch still in his glass.

Beelzebub narrowed zir eyes. ‘We can’t afford the zztrike. Hell would crash.’

That was, miserably enough, true. It was _always_ on the brink of crashing, whether demons were working or not. A month without administrative workers—that would cause Chaos not even he would be able to untangle.

‘All right, well.’ Lucifer mulled his options over. He didn’t need them thinking he was a bad King and attempting to overthrow him again. That would be rather self-defeating. ‘You can tell them they can have one extra week of _unpaid_ leave _here_ with special permits if they want up. Next!’

He had half a mind to throw all the paperwork onto the floor and elected not to in the last second.

Beelzebub shot zir eye at Belial again. His turtle form squirmed under zir stare and the low buzz of flies and a shining firefly[8] or two. He wisely chose to deliver the next dose of news and looked down at his clipboard.

‘Dagon’s entire database is catalogued in our computers and DR are adapting as well without too many complaints,’ he said, ticking the item off his list. ‘The queues for showers are getting longer—excellent torment if you ask me.’

Lucifer could feel something was the wrong kind of wrong. He carefully lifted one eyebrow. ‘But?’

Belial ticked off the second item as well, and stopped. ‘My Lord, there’s nothing that should concern you, we have everything under control. There’s still that employee transfer contract from the Andromedans—’

Lucifer’s eyes flickered red for a second. He turned to Beelzebub. ‘Do tell me, Prince Beelzebub.’

‘It’s about the, erm,’ ze paused uncharacteristically. The flies drew closer to zir and created a sort of a living protective wall. ‘Angel-demon relations.’

‘Yes?’ Lucifer beckoned zir with a flick of his hand and leant back in his chair, reinstating his previous composed position. This, _finally_ , sounded interesting; something he could _actually_ deal with. He knew all the experts on angel-demon relations and just _loved_ gossip.

‘In order to write the new formzz,’ ze didn’t need to specify which forms ze meant, ‘I did some digging and found out that it’zzzz— _it’s_ not actually forbidden, officially. The Archangel Gabriel confirmed this. There is some unrest among the low-ranking demons.’

And—what? Lucifer’s entire body tensed and surged forward. ‘Hang on, say that one more time?’

‘The low-ranking demons are trying to—’

‘No, not that part, the one about it not being forbidden,’ he half-shouted, exasperated. ‘Is that true?’

‘Well, we didn’t find any tangible evidence of the contrary, despite the popular belief, and neither did Upstairzz. No “thou shalt not lay with the oppozzition”. It’s all about _fighting_.’

Belial cleared his throat. ‘So the Traitor isn’t actually…’ He didn’t want to say that _he wasn’t actually a traitor_. It was a sore topic. ‘Some demons found out. There are whispers in the shadows if y’ know what I mean.’

‘They don’t like too much change at once.’ The insects circled Beelzebub’s form in spirals. Lucifer had tried to figure them out once and failed. Once more for good measure, the Prince said, ‘But the Council is handling it.’

Lucifer said, ‘Hmm.’

It was all he could do when his brain was on the brink of being overwhelmed. He himself was beyond following any divine regulations and, as was stated many times before, encouraged casual relations between the species, but even he considered it a Known Rule that they shouldn’t mix.

The card game evenings were something entirely different, of course.

Oh, God was _so_ playing everyone, wasn’t She? He would bet She thought it was funny[9].

Finding some eloquence at last, Lucifer asked, ‘ _How_ are you handling it, precisely? And does Upstairs know?’

‘Threats, unpaid overtime, the usual,’ said Belial at the same time as Beelzebub grumbled, ‘Gabriel’zz trying to keep it under the lid for now.’

They glared at each other. Then Beelzebub added that ze agreed with the dumb pigeon, matched with a proper, disgusted grimace. Lucifer wondered whether it was just him or whether ze really didn’t put as much feeling into it as usual.

All in all, ze looked _conflicted_. Lucifer understood.

‘Make sure it stays in the shadows for now,’ he said, ‘but tell everyone to come to the auditorium in an hour and that tardiness won’t be tolerated.’ He glanced at the clock. It was only three in the afternoon. The day certainly felt longer. ‘As for Gabriel, I might need to talk to him.’

That was Not Good. The thought of meeting the archangelic idiot in person made a shiver travel down his spine. He swirled on his chair, never mind that it wasn’t a swivel chair at all. Then it hit him.

He pointed his glass at Beelzebub when he came to face zir again. ‘On second thoughts, why don’t you assume the task? You can thank me later—but don’t forget to bring a report.’

He hated reports, but this time he _would_ need one. Again, things would be easier if Amenadiel came up every now and then, but again, that was decidedly not the case. It would be _lovely_ if he at least updated him on Charlie and the Earth situation, but no, he didn’t even do _that_.

Beelzebub gave him a look that was between unimpressed and pleased and said, ‘I never forget to do my job. It’s my _job_.’

‘I’m counting on that.’ Lucifer winked.

Beelzebub stared blankly. Lucifer wanted to laugh, or perhaps take a picture and send it to Crowley.

He didn’t, and dismissed the pair with a wave of his hand. Then he finished the rest of his drink. At the same time, his mobile pinged and told him that someone on Earth was trying to contact him. It was a much-needed distraction.

He had an hour to prepare an entire bloody speech and absolutely no desire to do so. But that was just Hell for you. Just when you thought you could get out because things have calmed down, sixty new problems and a camel showed up and you had to _deal with them_.

Lucifer reached for the decanter sitting in a faraway corner of the table and manually refilled his glass. He took a sip.

He wasn’t sure what to think of this new intel that Definitely Wasn’t Gossip. He liked to say that he had a good relationship with most of his angelic siblings and bore them no grudge—priding himself in being a reasonable angel, he got over it after a billion years.

This was all a part of God’s ridiculous Plan anyway, so why waste time with scoffing at angels and Earth when you could enjoy it? Bygones and all that. Sadly, most demons disagreed on that front, hence his current troubles.

They were unpredictable. Hell itself, again.

Remembering the notification, he took his mobile and flipped it over in his hand before he unlocked it. This was a mistake that he wouldn’t come to see until it was too late.

What seemed like a conversation about nothing interesting in particular popped up at him. He scrolled down the boring thread and typed a reply at something _The Good Place_ -related. Then Chloe showed up.

Of course. It was Friday afternoon; she would be at work and drinking her third cup of vending-machine coffee while pondering her latest case and waiting for Ella to deliver a forensics report.

She asked him whether he really won’t be coming back.

As if the day couldn’t get any worse.

> **lucinda:** [10] not any time soon my darling, I’m afraid not
> 
> **lucinda:** getting rogue demons to behave and follow orders again is more tedious than training a bunch of hellhounds
> 
> **mazikeen:** training hellhounds is easy
> 
> **lucinda:** precisely

He could see her name typing, three little dots, but they disappeared without a message. A weight clung to Lucifer’s insides. They haven’t spoken in a week.

The conversation turned towards Hellhounds, because the human side of the chat became curious and had to ask about owning one. Lucifer shook his head at them and told them that _no, they really couldn’t have one_.

And then it got worse.

> **Trixie:** I want a hellhound
> 
> **thedetective:** Trixie, no, we’re not getting a _hellhound_
> 
> **mazikeen:** why not, would be fun
> 
> **Trixie:** exactly!!!
> 
> **Trixie:** I want a puppy to remind me of lucifer!!!
> 
> **lucinda:** no one is getting a hellhound, not after what happened last year, and that’s final
> 
> **lucinda:** not even you, beatrice
> 
> **Trixie:** but why?
> 
> **lucinda:** because I said so!

As he would later tell the humans, this was exactly why he didn’t want anything to do with Adam or other children of any sort. Sometimes, they were worse and more demanding than _demons_ , and that was saying something.

Never mind that he _did_ literally go to Hell for Amenadiel’s son. That wasn’t the point here.

The point here was, he _knew_ this would escalate, somehow, thanks to his incredible celestial senses that he couldn’t help but turn to max after Neron’s lot almost got through to his office when he was wearing earphones and listening to some calming slow songs.

It did about a minute later when Crowley showed up[11]. He finally saw the mistake.

> **dabestdemon:** hellhounds! hah, really brings me back
> 
> **lucinda:** oh, you don’t say
> 
> **dabestdemon:** is that a child? do u have another child?
> 
> **mazikeen:** oh hey, that’s trixie
> 
> **mazikeen:** she’s _eleven_
> 
> **gayngel:** Oh boy.
> 
> **dabestdemon:** _oh, you don’t say_
> 
> **dabestdemon:** 11-year-olds should get their hellhounds, don’t u think
> 
> **lucinda:** haha, yes, hilarious
> 
> **thedetective:** that’s my daughter and _what do you mean another_
> 
> **thedetective:**?????
> 
> **thedetective:** Lucifer???
> 
> **lucinda:** well, I think that’s better to explain in private…
> 
> **thedetective:** Lucifer, tell me what’s going on right now or I’ll ask the new guys who apparently KNOW
> 
> **dabestdemon: 👋**
> 
> **lucinda:** I have a son, chloe. adam. he’s 11 and half human and almost brought about the apocalypse
> 
> **lucinda:** but I’ve only seen him once and have no desire to be in his life, and he doesn’t want me in it either, so can we move onto something less personal
> 
> **Trixie:** I have an almost brother????
> 
> **gayngel:** I am a little bit confused here[12].
> 
> **thedetective:** Lucifer. You don’t get to walk away from this
> 
> **thedetective:** I’m calling you right now and you better pick up the goddamn phone
> 
> **dabestdemon:** oooofff
> 
> **dabestdemon:** boss is screwed
> 
> **mazikeen:** uh huh

That was spot on, he would tell Maze if his phone didn’t start ominously ringing and vibrating in his hand, the usually cherished nickname of “Detective Decker”[13] somewhat terrifying. He yearned to talk to her, and yet dreaded what may come. Lucifer had a hunch that she would be unreasonable about this.

He knocked back his scotch and accepted the call. ‘Hello, Chloe.’

‘Lucifer.’ Her voice was dry, confused, a little hurt. And so good to hear. He imagined her, sitting by her desk and glaring murder at the little plant Eve had given her. ‘Why did you never think to mention you had a _son_?’

Lucifer took a deep breath. It reeked of ash. ‘It just never came up; I didn’t think it was relevant. It’s not like I’m interested in playing daddy with him.’

The line was silent for a minute. Lucifer could hear the rattle of the precinct on the other side. He called it, didn’t he? Unreasonable[14].

‘It’s the principle of the thing, Lucifer,’ she finally said. ‘That’s a pretty big thing to keep from me—from your _partner_. I thought we, I don’t know, I thought we trusted each other.’

‘Of course I trust you, Chloe,’ he smiled into nothingness. Another file surfaced on his desk, confirming that Dagon wasn’t actually lying earlier. That, and other things, caused the smile to falter and his brow to furrow. ‘It’s not about that, obviously, I just didn’t—’

‘What’s it about, then? Because to me, it seems like you’re keeping things from me, and what else is there when you didn’t tell me about a _child_? Or Linda, or…’

Of course. Linda and her angelic son. Chloe must have thought that he was the same thing as the Antichrist and therefore Lucifer would have experience. That was ridiculous. Sure, they were both Nephilim, he supposed, but a child of Satan was someone completely different from a child of Amenadiel. And then there was Adam rejecting him and his powers[15].

‘I swear I’m not keeping anything else from you, Detective,’ he said, rubbing at his forehead with his free hand. ‘I didn’t even know about his existence until last August, and I don’t _want to_ get acquainted.’

That was, at heart, the closest thing to a lie he let out of his mouth right now. It was a conviction he wouldn’t drop. In the same manner, he _has_ been keeping from her the failed End of All Times and the much larger book of prophecy from which his own prophesied Return to Hell came. It was another thing he didn’t consider relevant.

‘That doesn’t suddenly make it better, Lucifer! _August!_ ’ Chloe sighed. She spun on her creaky desk chair; someone next to her printed something. The office sounds weren’t that different from Hell when it came down to it. She asked, ‘Does Amenadiel know?’

‘Yes,’ Lucifer admitted. He scooted closer to the desk and began assembling the manila folders in neater stacks. He thought of her case files again.

‘And who else? Maze?’ Chloe continued. Lucifer thought she could name any celestial being she knew plus the team leaders from his group and still wouldn’t reach a final number.

‘All of Heaven and Hell, really.’ The snort that escaped his lips couldn’t help itself. ‘The Apocalypse was a rather big event, couldn’t miss it.’

‘You mentioned the Apocalypse before. That really—that _happened_? Like in the Bible, with the Horsemen and the Antichr—’ Chloe stopped herself before she could say the word, figuring things out. Lucifer tensed. ‘Your son. He’s the Antichrist.’

Was he complaining about paperwork? Well, the Universe fulfilled his wishes, didn’t it? Lucifer wanted this conversation to end and move in the direction of more pleasant things, because his son from only-God-knew-whom was hardly the first thing he would choose to discuss with his girlfriend, and if that wasn’t possible, he would rather get to that speech now.

But he would still prefer the small talk and banter, thank you very much.

‘Technically, yes,’ he said. His hand dropped onto the folders. ‘But he relinquished me after he and his friends stopped the Horsepersons and lost his powers. The world didn’t end; else none of us would be standing right now.’

He saved everyone’s life. Lucifer realised this. Without Adam refusing to participate in Armageddon, everyone he loved would be dead. Lucifer himself probably wouldn’t die unless Michael herself stabbed him with her sword—though his fate would be unimaginably worse.

He supposed he should thank him for that. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud, or actually go as far as to do it.

‘Wow,’ Chloe breathed. Lucifer could hear the slap of palm against desk. ‘So much for not keeping things from me. Oh my God, Lucifer, the world could’ve ended last year and we didn’t even _know_.’

‘I’m sorry, Chloe, what do you want me to _say_?’

The chair creaked again. A lot more softly than he expected, Chloe said, ‘Maybe just the truth.’

‘I promise I’ll tell you the next time someone yells at me that I’m his father in the middle of an American airbase in England, scout’s honour,’ he said, resisting the need to grab a pen and start doodling nasty pictures on the top folder.

‘Lucifer.’

Somehow, he could _see_ her narrowed eyes. Did she _know_ what he was thinking about? He wondered what she was wearing, too. He didn’t actually ask. Even he could tell now wasn’t the time.

Nonetheless, he responded with a playful, ‘Yes, Detective?’

Her reaction was pitifully sober. ‘Can you _please_ take this seriously?’

See? There it was.

‘I _am_ being serious!’ he protested. Contrary to the statement, he spun around on his chair and wished for something to chew on. Nothing but another folder showed up on the desk. He looked at it and sighed again. ‘But honestly, what would you _do_? Isn’t it better not to know, to—live in the blissful ignorance Adam has granted humanity with? Have one fewer burden to carry?’

‘I don’t know, Lucifer, I just.’ Lucifer could feel her shaking her head, this time. Video calls who? ‘I’m tired of this. And I miss you, and want you back, but then you go and do something like _this_ and I don’t _know_ anymore.’

‘Chloe…’

‘And Trixie is still talking about Hellhounds and Dan is out of his _mind_ [16] and I need a _break_. I need some time to _think_.’

‘As you wish, Chloe.’ Lucifer stared at the single painting in his office. It stared back. He swallowed a forming lump in his throat and said, firm but downhearted, ‘I’ve got work that needs tending anyway.’

‘Yeah. Okay. Me too.’

‘I lo—’

A beep told Lucifer that she rang off.

He glanced at the phone and then tossed it at the wall with enough force to shatter rocks. It burst into little metallic pieces and scattered all over the obsidian floor. The battery caught fire. Someone outside probably heard the sound; Lucifer didn’t care.

He had 99 problems and Armageddon’t was _still_ about 69 of them. Everything started there, and it _wouldn’t_ leave him alone. Even his personal life on Earth: the one anchor to normality he had. Bloody _fucking_ Hell.

Speaking of: he has wasted twenty-three minutes of preparation time. And he forgot what he wanted to say, or what the speech was even supposed to be _about_. This time, it was a good thing that demons were always late, never mind his instructions, he figured. He buried his face in his hands.

His laptop[17] perked up and turned bright, which woke him up from his misery. He glanced up. It showed a thread of messages that Lucifer was _sure_ were only for mobile applications—and wasn’t that just _perfect_?

Adam was there.

He must have made sure he saw it regardless of the destroyed mobile, too, the little _brat_.

> **adamyoung:** sorry for inviting myself in but I felt like someone really wanted to talk to me
> 
> **adamyoung:** I’m the antichrist
> 
> **Trixie:** you’re my almost brother???
> 
> **adamyoung:** yeah, and I have a hellhound, but dog’s really nice and all
> 
> **Trixie:** cool, i’m Trixie
> 
> **mazikeen:** HEY LUCIFER ITS UR SON
> 
> **lucinda:** bloody _hell_ , didn’t the day just get better
> 
> **DrLinda:** Wait, okay, let’s skip the Lucifer has a son part for now, but that means you’re half angel, right? Maybe you could help us with Charlie, your… your cousin. We thought he was the first, but apparently he’s not, so…?
> 
> **adamyoung:** ask away, I suppose
> 
> **adamyoung:** he’s family I don’t want but family nonetheless 🤷‍♂️
> 
> **DrLinda:** Wow, thank you, Adam, really
> 
> **dabestdemon:** for the first time in what, 6 millennia? I agree with lucifer
> 
> **gayngel:** As do I, my dear. There is _bound_ to be a disaster here.

In that, Aziraphale was right; though, he couldn’t even begin to imagine how much.

Lucifer resisted the urge to kick the computer into oblivion and picked up a gel pen to scribble some notes about relationships[18] for bored demonkind to pretend to pay attention to later. It couldn’t go much worse from there, eh?

It definitely could, Lucifer reflected half an hour later, when he broached the news to Crowley via miracle-fixed mobile and got a dramatic shriek that almost popped his eardrums in return.

* * *

1 Oh yes, there were nightclubs in Hell. Where else would demons even spend their money? Besides rent, that is. They loved to drink and fuck and dance in disorganised groups even more than humans did, and sometimes they let souls of dead singers and dancers entertain them instead of punishing them. It was another thing no one Talked About.

It was, also, where Lucifer got the idea of opening a club on Earth. He knew the business and thought it was an easy way to blend in and party for all eternity without the tortured screams completing the music in the background.[✿]

2 There were weekly inspections. Demons were free to live as they did, but having less of a mess on one’s desk actually proved to increase productivity, because one didn’t have to spend an hour looking for a lost pen and wiping suspicious goo off one’s keyboard—and who wouldn’t love the extra cash for leisure activities? They didn’t even notice the ongoing decluttering process in their own self-absorption. Lucifer was already winning. Or so he thought.[✿]

3 That was wrong. Only one-third of it was Crowley’s fault.[✿]

4 Hell’s largest city. While the Upper Management resided in Dis, along with all of Earth Department, Demon Resources, and the majority of hell loops, Pandæmonium housed all of the other departments and was about the only place a demon could go on holiday. It had the sea of boiling sulphur demons had Fallen into once upon a time. There were slides and diving boards now, and stands that offered grilled food.[✿]

5 Except for Gabriel, who was vain enough to do it every week, because he couldn’t see a single feather grow in the wrong angle. He had to be the perfect example of a leader, after all![✿]

6 Lesser Demons, who had no wings, went on to create one large line and massage the knots in each other’s backs. All sorts of weapons were, thankfully, banned and had to be handed over into a basket in front of the door to prevent stabbing and discorporation, so it was a mostly peaceful event that no one thought possible in Hell before. Everyone agreed not to Talk About That, either.[✿]

7 This was an unbelievable coincidence. Crowley loved it.[✿]

8 Beelzebub was the Lord of Flies, and by _flies_ , ze meant _all_ flies, not just houseflies and bottle flies. Those were just the most common in Hell and therefore more likely to swarm around zir head. But it wasn’t unusual to find moths or wasps near zir, too. It was less about biology and more about the aesthetic; being called Lord of the Endopterygota just didn’t have the same ring to it, you know?[✿]

9 Look, it wasn’t Her fault that everyone straight out _assumed_ that fraternisation was forbidden. Though if She had told them it wasn’t right at the beginning, Things wouldn’t turn out quite the way they did, and there would be no one left to contemplate the subject and finally cross the bridge.[✿]

10 In this particular, 100+ beings involving group, his name was this: a result of Amenadiel mentioning calling Lucifer that as a joke in front of some people once and said people sticking to it.[✿]

11 Or rather, was added into the conversation together with Aziraphale because someone thought they should see this. They were right. Crowley was delighted to learn yet more juicy information on Lucifer’s life on Earth.[✿]

12 What Aziraphale meant was, _who in Heavens is Trixie, and wait, is that detective person the Chloe Crowley told me you told him about? You can communicate? Who are the other people here? Crowley, help?_ [✿]

13 Lucifer was the kind of person who saved a number once and never cared to change the contact name. See: “serpent’s husband”.[✿]

14 Chloe’s actions were perfectly justified, but as it were, Lucifer still didn’t understand humans sometimes and dismissed their feelings when he didn’t recognise them. He wouldn’t think twice about this situation and would laugh at whoever pointed out that he did something wrong. Which he did. Very wrong, if you asked her.[✿]

15 Adam might have rejected Lucifer as his father, but some of his powers stayed. When he really believed in something or assumed something was that way and not the other, like when he blew a tyre on his bike and assumed it would be all right the next morning, the Universe still listened to him and granted his wishes, whether he was fully aware of doing it or not.[✿]

16 Mostly about his daughter wanting a Hellhound. Despite not engaging in the conversation, Dan saw it and almost had a heart attack. He ran straight to Chloe’s desk and began asking questions—because while he was aware of Lucifer’s origins now, he still wasn’t very happy about it and was nowhere near Chloe’s acceptance yet. And Hellhounds were, as of now, very high on his list of celestial nonsense he never wanted to come into contact with.[✿]

17 Apart from his smartphone, it was the only functionally modern piece of technology seen in all of Hell. It was the King’s, and that state alone kept it from twisting into something ancient, but sometimes, it was still slow and/or did whatever it wanted.[✿]

18 All of which were his guesses and personal thoughts; it wasn’t like it was _written_ somewhere _accessible_ where everyone could _read it_ , was it? No, God had to keep it for _Herself_.[✿]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [full version of the chat conversation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17384027/chapters/46363555#workskin)


	15. in which the armageddon't gang reconnects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello to anathema and newt! and adam and dog! finally!

If there was ever a time to reiterate the phrase “that went down like a lead balloon”, it was most certainly right now.

Well, a week ago. Anyway. Crowley still hasn’t stopped mentally and sometimes physically yelling at pretty much everything that got into his way. More often than not, his plants were the victims of his outbursts of despair as per usual, but Aziraphale’s baked goods[1] weren’t safe from harm either.

Not that the angel was much better off. He merely appeared calmer to the eye of an outsider inexperienced in dealing with his moods and expressions. The truth was, he had spent the first couple of hours after the unfortunate phonecall pacing around the garden and questioning everything he’s known for the past billion years or so.

Out loud. With enough gestures to match Crowley and precisely one f-bomb. It was very sexy of him.

Because everything was a Lie, and relationships between angels and demons, romantic or otherwise, were Not In Fact Forbidden by the Almighty or anyone of authority.

Three days later, he told Crowley he fancied a bit of fresh air—never mind there was plenty of it along the shore, as Crowley made sure to point out—and perhaps they could pay young Anathema and Newt a visit? What did he think?

Crowley, lying in bed and feeling Existential, thought that now was not the time to go much anywhere, but it didn’t do him much good, because Aziraphale brought out the Bastard Side of Him, miracled the warm quilt away, and pinched his side in That One Spot That Tickled as Heck[2]. Crowley stumbled out of bed and, half a minute of indignant noises later, agreed that maybe they _could_ hear out the witch’s opinion on Matters and agreed to go on Saturday.

Saturday was, to his dismay, a nice and warm day. Crowley drove his Bentley down the A33 fast enough to make Aziraphale nervously clutch at his seat, and whistled along to Tchaikovsky’s _Another One Bites the Dust_. His hands, decorated with black nail polish, barely touched the wheel. He didn’t notice.

He just wanted to get to Lower Tadfield as soon as possible so he could get it over with and return to bed.

It was practically a miracle, what with the mass of commuters who steadily crawled at a very leisurely pace all the way from Basingstoke to Reading. Crowley has always been good at those, though, hasn’t he?

Aziraphale kept on a mildly disquieted expression and said, ‘Crowley, can you _please_ slow down?’

Really, there were two ways you could go too fast for someone, and one of those was rather literal.

‘You’re going to hit someone again!’

‘Hrrm,’ mumbled Crowley. Nonetheless, he eased up on the gas just a tad. The speedometer was flashing a sad 78 miles per hour. ‘ _Must_ you keep bringing that up?’

‘Must you keep trying to discorporate us in this blasted machine of yours?’

‘It’s just a _car_ ; it _gets_ us places,’ Crowley argued, shooting him an offended look he couldn’t see behind the sunglasses he was wearing because of the sun and the prospect of company that Wasn’t Aziraphale. ‘And besides, you _wanted_ to take this trip, so as far as I’m concerned, you’re not allowed to complain.’

Aziraphale wiggled uncomfortably and said, ‘Yes, but—never mind. I do hope they are doing well.’

‘Yeah, and we can also visit the ex-Antichrist while we’re at it, eh?’ Crowley turned his eyes back on the road. He passed a sign that claimed it was only ten miles to Tadfield. He thought he recognised the woods. It _was_ his fourth time[3] coming there, after all. ‘We’re almost there.’

Aziraphale suddenly forgot all about Crowley’s driving and exclaimed, ‘Excellent! Ah, it would be _nice_ to see how Adam’s doing. He’s just finishing First Form…[4]’

‘Angel, he texted you like five hours ago,’ Crowley said, rolling his eyes. It was true. After the Apocawhoops, Adam became curious about the two supernatural entities who claimed to be his godfathers, and effectively grew to the idea. They exchanged texts and photos sometimes.

Defeated, Aziraphale exhaled and went back to glaring daggers at the innocent windshield. The song switched to _Love of My Life_.

As they approached the village, Aziraphale relaxed and basked in the feeling of Love that encompassed the place. A tiny sliver of that Love got to Crowley. He tried his best to ignore it, but it wasn’t going well, now that he knew what Aziraphale had _meant_ , back then.

He sighed and said, ‘But all right, we can drop by later.’

Aziraphale visibly perked up, and a minuscule smile made it to Crowley’s lips.

When he slid out of the car, the gate to Jasmine Cottage was already open, and Anathema was already waiting in the doorway.

No, it wasn’t thanks to a third book of prophecy sneakily hidden under the floorboards. She could hear the engine’s rumble and the Queen songs for a good minute before the Bentley found itself parked in front of her house[5].

Crowley waved at her and didn’t wait for Aziraphale to follow. He swaggered through the gate with all the faux confidence in the world. But then he saw her quirked eyebrow and stopped dead in his tracks, right under the horseshoe[6].

Not just that; Anathema was giving him a once-over, and laid her eyes on his face. Was there a leaf in his hair or something?

‘Hi, Crowley,’ she said, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. ‘Nice jacket. And is that _lipstick_?’

Ah, right. Not a leaf then. He forgot humans were shocked by this sort of thing for a second there. So _what_ if it _was_? They should seriously get over the whole gender thing already.

‘Yeah! Is that too much? I’m trying to experiment a little, y’know,’ he scratched his Snake Tattoo, ‘yeah. Jacket’s new.’

Crowley could probably mention that today was also 1 June, the first day of what the humans liked to call Pride Month, and so he naturally needed to go _all_ in and put on one of the new [additions to his wardrobe](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/71R0fcKtnOL._UY606_.jpg). It was a black, slim-cut thing with a very expressive floral pattern, which he found online and miracled into existence sometimes about last week.

‘It suits you,’ she said with a genuine smile and reached out to hug him. Crowley wasn’t used to being hugged, so he stiffened somewhat, but then he quickly melted into the warm embrace. He approved of her burgundy blouse and loose black trousers, too.

She let go a moment too soon when she noticed Aziraphale awkwardly standing behind them, cream contrasting with dark. ‘Hello, Aziraphale,’ she greeted him as she untangled her long, wiry limbs from Crowley’s equally long and wiry limbs.

The angel returned the smile and fixed his waistcoat with one hand. In the other, he was holding a plastic box. ‘Hello, dear girl. I brought biscuits!’ He lifted the box. ‘They’re home-made.’

Crowley leant closer and added, voice mischievously low, ‘You should see what he does with the batter.’

‘I’m sure,’ Anathema whispered with a smirk. ‘Come inside.’ She ushered Crowley in and stopped to hug Aziraphale as well. She thanked him for the biscuits and took the box from his hands. Once they were all inside and the door was closed, she asked, ‘Tea?’

Crowley hummed, while Aziraphale told her it would be lovely. She was quickly picking up local habits, Crowley noted, and it reminded him of the two of them somewhere at the back of his multidimensional mind. Although he still preferred coffee, himself. It came with being a demon.

‘Newt, they’re here!’ Anathema shouted, a filling kettle in her hand.

The telltale thumps of not-so-heavy feet on creaky floors walked to the corner of the ceiling. ‘Err, just a minute, dear!’ shouted the man to whom they belonged. There was a different kind of a dull thud and a groan. Crowley had nothing to do with that.

‘Don’t just stand there; take a seat,’ said Anathema, smiling, and put the kettle on. She took four mugs from the cupboard, each a different kind of village couture and precisely Aziraphale’s style. Then she opened the box and inspected its contents. Crowley knew it was mostly lemon-zest shortbread. She laid some onto a plate.

Aziraphale nudged Crowley’s elbow and said, ‘Come along, my dear.’

In the middle of the large table, a bouquet of lilies was slowly wilting and shedding petals. Crowley thought that unacceptable. With a strong glare, he fixed the flowers into perfection as he pulled out a chair for himself.

Anathema shot him an enigmatic look. Crowley grinned something crooked. Aziraphale eased himself onto a chair next to Crowley and helped himself to his own biscuit. The feet overhead moved into the other part of the cottage.

They made noncommittal small talk until the frame of one Newton Pulsifer, wearing a graphic t-shirt and a lopsided smile, appeared in the doorframe and the kettle threatened to shatter the windowpanes with its whistle. Anathema went to take care of it, and Newt shook Aziraphale and Crowley’s hands in greeting.

He narrowed his eyes at Crowley’s visage, and the demon couldn’t be more satisfied with himself. It got better when he said, ‘Erm. You look good.’ in a way that suggested he was second-guessing everything he thought he knew—much like Crowley during the entire last week.

He made sure to slouch even more ostentatiously than usual and leave proper red marks on the brim of his off-white mug when Anathema brought the tea over.

Aziraphale made a comment about drinking tea from _mugs_ like _Americans_ , which earned him a look from all the parties involved, because

  1. Anathema _was_ American[7],
  2. did he not notice that even English people rarely drank tea from traditional china these days? A bigger mug meant more calming tea, _obviously_ , and those were some hectic times, with Brexit[8] and everything else. Really, Aziraphale.



The angel in question responded with a stifled laugh and took a large sip from his pale blue mug.

Crowley took pity on him—not that he’d use those words, ever—and asked the couple how they’ve been doing.

‘I got a job and wasn’t fired on my first day,’ Newt proudly announced. That was, besides stopping all those nuclear warheads last August and getting a girlfriend out of it[9], the greatest accomplishment of his life so far. ‘Has nothing to do with computers. Maybe it’s better off that way.’

Crowley made a few acknowledging noises. Aziraphale said, ‘I could teach you how to properly operate a computer if you wanted. I do pride myself as quite the expert.’

‘Yeah, if someone needed an expert on ‘80s IBMs,’ Crowley snorted, remembering the dusty old thing the angel kept at home. Sure, it _worked_ , but it couldn’t be further away from _stylish_ and only did what it did thanks to miracles, really.

‘Hush now, you serpent,’ he frowned, though a smile played at his lips. It was one of those paradoxical expressions again. ‘Just because I don’t _like_ modern technology doesn’t mean that I don’t know how it _works_ [10].’

‘Yeah, yeah. Sure.’ Crowley popped a second biscuit into his mouth—whole—and decided he’s had enough food for the day.

‘Actually, I think I’m good,’ said Newt when he deemed the exchange over. He pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘After the End of the World business last year, I realised there was no point chasing an impossible dream and settled for something more err, stable.’

‘He works at a dairy farm over in High Wycombe,’ Anathema supplied.

If Crowley got the geography right, that was about a twenty minutes’ drive away from Tadfield proper. He noticed Dick Turpin parked in front of the house, slightly dirty from use. He hoped it wouldn’t corrupt the Bentley too much with its attitude. Where his car was debonair, the blue thing was just _gawky_.

‘It doesn’t pay much, but it gives me something to do, you know?’ Newt blew on his tea and drank. ‘And the cows seem to genuinely like me. More than most people.’

‘And it’s not like we need the money,’ Anathema remarked and patted his hand. Crowley snickered.

‘And what about you, Anathema dear?’ asked Aziraphale. ‘You’d said you were studying at Oxford?’

‘Yeah, Environmental Change and Management. It took a miracle getting in practically last minute, but yeah, I’m just finishing my first year this month.’

Crowley absolutely, definitely will not tell Aziraphale that it took a literal miracle, and his own at that. He wasn’t that kind of demon. He had to hold onto whatever last shred of dignity he still had.

How did he know, you ask? That was simple. They exchanged phone numbers, and she complained to him about the complicated process of emailing and sending copies of documents that lay in a drawer at home in Malibu and lying about _what_ precisely she’s been doing after high school in so many details that he decided to say _fuck it_ and just get her in. He knew all about paperwork, after all.

‘I thought, “well, now that there’s no Book, what can I _do_ with myself”? Adam told me I could still work on saving the world and its resources. So I’m trying to.’

‘That’s wonderful,’ Aziraphale said. ‘Oh, I do say young humans have so much capacity for magnanimity, _kindness_. People like you are why it’s all worth saving.’

Anathema smiled, a blush creeping up her cheeks, and in that moment, it was clear how _young_ she truly was. She unconsciously reached for her necklace. Crowley silently agreed. Again, he would not dare utter the words.

Newt, in the meantime, ate two biscuits. When he was done, he cleared his throat. ‘And what about you two?’

For all Crowley forgot about his troubles, it all came rushing back. He brushed nonexistent crumbs off his floral jacket and chortled. ‘Funny thing—’

‘Right, _that_ ,’ Aziraphale said.

Newt cocked an eyebrow. Anathema said, ‘Huh?’

‘Yeaaah.’ Crowley ran his hands through his hair and pinned it back with his fingers as he reclined in his chair, dangerously close to falling over. He grinned maniacally. ‘You’ll never guess what we, or, well, _Beelzebub_ found out.’

When no one made a comment, he continued, ‘ _Turns out_ , we’ve been dancing around each other for nothing! They tried to kill us over nothing! And what are _rules_ anymore?’

‘You’re not making any sense[11],’ pointed out the witch who could read people’s auras and sense their emotions somewhat. She glanced at Aziraphale, who was silently sipping at his tea, which about everyone suspected had something alcoholic miraculously added into it.

‘Angels and demons being, erm, _together_ , or friends, or interacting in any way, really! It’s not forbidden. By God. Or at least there are no records of anyone saying it was anywhere, neither Above nor Below—or so we’ve heard.’

‘From the Devil himself, no less,’ Crowley added. He swung forwards, and his chair landed back on all fours with a thud. He copied Aziraphale’s idea and gave his tea a little kick; then he drank it all.

‘Oh,’ Anathema said, knitting her eyebrows together. ‘Oh wow. You would think…’

‘Indeed, you would _think_.’

‘So you’re like,’ Newt waved a finger between him and Aziraphale, ‘together now[12]?’ Then he made a gesture that was vaguely inappropriate and vaguely made no sense.

‘No! I mean, yes, but that’s not the _point_.’ Crowley raised his arms in a wide gesture. ‘The _point_ is—isn’t that just _swell_? She’s making pawns of us. The whole _blasted_ world. Not even Upper Management can claim that God does not play games with the Universe now. _Poof_ , it’s all a lie.’

First, there was the Great Plan, which was something that wasn’t supposed to happen, despite the _literal plan_. Then there was Lucifer, being a completely different bloke than everyone thought him to be. Then the revelations about Amenadiel and Mazikeen. Then _Gabriel_ and _Beelzebub_. And God showing up in a _group chat_ —yeah, Crowley saw that one—and saying all would be well. And _then_ they found out about _that_.

Crowley knew his Mother well enough to tell it was all for a _laugh_. Teaching them a _lesson_. But it was manipulation and purposefully withholding the truth and—look, he was _angry_.

The mug in his hand popped and shattered. Aziraphale gasped. Crowley didn’t realise he has still been holding it. He flicked his wrist and restored it into its earlier state with a ‘Sorry.’

Aziraphale reached for his hand and threaded his fingers through Crowley’s, saying, ‘He’s been overthinking things. It’s _good news_.’ There was a glare with that.

‘Right, angel, why don’t we jump on the bandwagon and get married, eh?’ he turned at him, half-exasperated, half-hysterical. He licked his lips.

Aziraphale turned positively crimson and spluttered. ‘I mean—that is—’

‘Relax, I was joking,’ he shook his head. Then his brain caught up with what he said, and he scratched the Snake again. ‘Not that—I’m saying we’d never… erm. Yeah.’ He blew a raspberry.

Anathema and Newt collectively decided to stay out of it and observe with amusement and/or bafflement. The next minute was the longest and most awkward in all of Earth’s history.

Then, as if on cue, the doorbell rang, and Newt shot up from his chair and ran to the door as an opportunity to escape. Barking came from the other side before he opened it an inch, which could only mean one thing.

They didn’t need to go to the Antichrist, for the Antichrist came to them.

‘Hi, Adam.’

‘Hi, Newt,’ the boy waved innocuously. From his seat at the head of the table, Crowley could see everything. ‘Say hi, Dog.’

Dog barked happily and let himself inside, running to Anathema and sniffling at Crowley’s feet. Adam said, ‘I heard Uncle Crowley and Uncle Aziraphale[13] were here, so I came by to say hi. If that’s alright.’

He didn’t mention where precisely he had heard. No one asked.

‘‘Course it is,’ Newt said and let Adam in, shutting the door behind him. ‘Err, fancy some tea, Adam?’

‘Have you got hot chocolate?’ he asked, throwing a Look at Aziraphale as he entered the kitchen. ‘Hi ‘Zira. Crowley.’

‘Hello, Adam,’ Aziraphale greeted. Anathema offered the boy a biscuit. He took one of each kind and promptly ate one.

Crowley was busy scratching Dog behind his ears and telling him what a bad boy he was, but he looked up to give him a wave. ‘Adam, hey! How’ve you been? Up to no good, I hope?’

Aziraphale sighed at him. ‘Crowley…’

Adam wasn’t perturbed by Crowley’s appearance whatsoever, and the demon thought, _clever child; keep on being free and **normal** while you still can._

‘Well, school’s _boring_ ,’ Adam said with the air of every child who is offended that they must go to _school_ when they already _know_ all the important things, ‘but we go to Hogback Wood every day, an’ fight with the Johnsonites, an’ they already opened the ice cream shop, so it’s all good.’

‘Mhmm,’ Crowley nodded appreciatively. He certainly approved of that carefree attitude.

Aziraphale miracled up five mugs of steaming cocoa. He didn’t like hot chocolate.

‘Wicked,’ Adam grinned and reached for his mug. He sat down on an empty chair next to Aziraphale and put his remaining biscuits onto the placemat. There were crumbs.

Crowley lifted Dog into his lap, making sure no hair or mud would stick onto his clothes, and was licked all over in return. It was not very hellhoundish, to be honest, but neither was Dog per se. If he _had_ even just a bit of Hell still in him, he positively wouldn’t just _lick_.

Anathema laughed and took her cocoa. ‘He likes you.’

‘He better,’ Crowley grinned. He looked at the small beast. ‘Know I’m close to home, don’t you? Yeah, you’re a smart boy. Got a smart master, too, eh?’

He absolutely didn’t _coo_.

He also didn’t notice this, being occupied with Dog and all, but Aziraphale paused mid-sip and gazed at him with all the adoration and bliss an angel could hold.

Anathema produced a phone seemingly out of nowhere and snapped a picture of both—or rather three—of them with the notion of sending it to Crowley later. ‘Cute,’ she said.

At that, Crowley looked up and frowned.

Aziraphale thought it was the right time to humiliate him even further and said, ‘He’s adopted this stray cat that kept sneaking into the garden.’ He leant forward on his elbows, conspiratorial. ‘ _Black with_ _yellow eyes_.’

‘Like a witch’s familiar,’ Anathema beamed. ‘Nice.’

‘Is it a Hellcat?’ asked Adam curiously.

‘Nah, she’s just a regular, human cat. Well, a _cat_ cat. Not like the cat people from that one planet[14]—erm. Never mind. Her name’s Delilah.’

‘Like Freddie Mercury’s?’ Newt asked. This surprised Crowley. People usually didn’t know this, with the exception of Aziraphale, who didn’t really count as _people_. He was just Aziraphale.

‘Yeah!’ he said. Dog jumped down from his lap and barked, hearing about cats and thinking there was one nearby. ‘You a Queen fan, Pulsifer?’

He made a contemplative gesture. ‘Ehh, I like a few songs. I saw the film with Anathema last year.’

Anathema was busy mulling over his slip-up about other planets. She has always believed in the existence of aliens, ever since she was a child, but that was one thing. So was the spaceship that landed in Tadfield. It was just a product of Adam’s powers. This, though— ‘Other… planet?’

Adam turned to her. ‘Yeah, aliens are real! Trixie told me about them[15]!’

‘Who’s Trixie? Someone from school?’ she asked. At the same time, Aziraphale said, ‘Oh _no_.’

‘She’s Chloe’s daughter. That’s my father’s girlfriend.’

Crowley smirked at the shocked expression mirrored on both her and Newt’s faces. To clear up that no, Arthur Young didn’t have a mistress, he said, ‘He means his _other_ father.’

‘Like…’ Anathema pointed downwards.

‘Yup.’ Crowley turned to Adam. Dog wagged his tail and ran to his master when he found out that no cats were present in the house. ‘So you’re in touch. Can’t say I’m surprised.’

He remembered Aziraphale’s words: there was, indeed, bound to be a right disaster if Lucifer’s son and stepdaughter began to conspire over text messages and, _oh_ , not to mention FaceTime.

‘I like Trixie. She’s not stupid like the other kids, an’ she knows about angels and demons and all so I can talk to her about this stuff.’

‘And… did she tell you about Lucifer?’ Aziraphale voiced the question that was on Crowley’s mind too.

Adam ate his biscuits before he spoke. ‘She told me she loved him an’ that he’s awesome, but I don’t care. He didn’t care either. I’ve got my real dad right here.’

And that was that; everyone felt the air ripple as he spoke and solidified the words into reality. Thankfully not insistently enough to summon his dad into Anathema’s kitchen like he did it at the Air Base.

‘So,’ said Newt. He fixed his glasses again. They didn’t fit particularly well.

Anathema turned to Crowley and Aziraphale collectively and wiggled an eyebrow. ‘You two never elaborated on the finally getting together part.’

Crowley groaned and tilted his head back. Bloody nosey humans.

‘Well, that’s rather simple, isn’t it?’ Aziraphale smiled. ‘Sometimes, you spend so long alongside someone that it is all but inevitable to start considering them an integral part of yourself and, fundamentally, realise you would move the stars for them—or save the Earth from Armageddon. And that’s love.’

‘Nhm,’ Crowley said. ‘We snogged, shagged, and went to Paris for crêpes.’

‘Crowley!’

‘What?’ he half-shrugged. ‘It’s _true_ , angel.’

‘So when’s the wedding, huh?’ Anathema nudged Crowley’s arm. She had the audacity to _wink_.

‘ _Shut up_ , Anathema. You’re lucky I like you.’

Crowley still couldn’t wait to get home—but Aziraphale had been right, three days ago. It wasn’t such a bad idea to talk to another living being and get his mind off of things. Hell. Heaven. Lucifer. Everything else in between.

And he _did_ like her.

Then Adam said, ‘Trixie says hi!’ He showed everyone his old Samsung with a somewhat blurry photo he took of the five of them without anyone noticing, which he, apparently, sent to her. There was a lot of emojis involved.

They all laughed at their _very_ ill-prepared faces.

‘Send it to me,’ Crowley told him. ‘No, actually—’ He pushed his sunglasses up in his hair, revealing not only his eyes, but also his winged eyeliner. He passed Adam his own iPhone. ‘Take another one.’

* * *

1 Aziraphale _really_ took to baking. He realised that without a job, there wasn’t much he could do, and there was only so much time you could spend locked in your room reading, according to Crowley. So he browsed recipes on his old computer, which shouldn’t even be able to connect to the internet but somehow _was_ , and prepared something new almost every day. As a result, Crowley gained about four pounds of weight. He didn’t like it.[✿]

2 Aziraphale found out about this sometimes in the 2000s BC and used it against him five (5) times so far.[✿]

3 They have visited the couple once before, shortly before Christmas. It was, naturally, Aziraphale’s idea. Crowley did enjoy it, though, and connected with Anathema over subjects like climate change, Donald Trump, or clueless partners with strange fashion choices who didn’t agree with modern things.

Side note: the rise of Trump was the work of Mammon, who got a very detailed commendation and a pay rise for it. Hell rejoiced. Crowley was bitter about not getting a chance to take credit for the new president and thought it excellent work—until two years later when even Hell agreed it had been a Bad Move and he was glad that he wasn’t stationed in America.[✿]

4 This was what Americans and other aliens might know as Sixth Grade. In England, it marked the first year of Secondary School, which was something entirely different from Primary School, and for children such the Them, it means new friends, new teachers, new subjects, and new experiences. Also more homework and less time for playing in Hogback Wood, so it wasn’t altogether very nice, as he would tell anyone who asked.[✿]

5 Anathema, being very rich, bought the place a week after the Apocawhoops and settled down. Not knowing what life held for her now—a very strange sensation for someone who spent 21 years living according to a sixteenth-century book—she clung to the one thing she _did_ know: her gut feeling. It told her that she liked this village, and liked Newt, and wanted to connect with her English roots, so she listened to it and stayed.[✿]

6 The ground under his feet didn’t burn, because Dog the dog had already drained all of the horseshoe’s power off the first time he had set paw inside the house.[✿]

7 ¼ English and ¾ Puerto-Rican-American, to be precise. Her grandfather, Albert Device, had once decided to study in the United States, and by decided, we mean “understood so from Agnes’ prophecy”. There he met, or rather was destined to meet, his future wife, who came to the same college from a town near San Juan. Shortly after they graduated, they had a son, Frederick Device, and also bought all the shares in Apple and a few other companies and became rich. Then they had two daughters, who married equally rich men and didn’t really stay in the whole prophecy business. It was all right. They weren’t meant to.

Anathema’s father met, also absolutely not by chance, _his_ future wife María at a Latin dance class, (even rich professional descendants had hobbies; yes, this one was prophesied too), and in November 1997, Anathema was born. The rest was history.[✿]

8 One of the things Crowley took credit for and didn’t have anything to do with.[✿]

9 Personally, Newt still couldn’t believe his luck. Anathema was the girl of his dreams if he ever had any, so gorgeous and smart and vivacious; she knew her way around fixing things better than he ever did; she cooked better than his _mum_ did. He didn’t have to live off sandwiches and cuppa soup anymore, no, she made all sorts of exotic meals and salads that actually had _taste_ , bless her. He didn’t even mind that she ate tofu and soy meat instead of the real thing.[✿]

10 All modern technology was, after all, dumbed-down versions of Heaven’s cutting-edge devices. Aziraphale wasn’t stupid. He knew how to use an iPad, or at least he could make the iPad do whatever he needed it to do at the moment; he merely didn’t choose to, because he had no use for it.[✿]

11 Before an angel and a demon found themselves waiting for a bus to London, they told everyone the rather long story about themselves, Heaven, Hell, the Arrangement, and everything else. They shared a bottle of rosé with Anathema and Newt after. Crowley even told her about the Trial once. The confusion wasn’t about that. It was about Crowley not actually explaining anything.[✿]

12 Everyone who stood on that tarmac on that day also made the very common mistake of assuming the two of them were _married_. Crowley _could_ see where all the humans were coming from, he didn’t deny that, but he denied everything else. Madame Tracy knew, sharing a mind with Aziraphale, but the others were, frankly, shocked no less than Lucifer was. They would _swear_ …[✿]

13 Adam, just like most children, took to calling all his friends’ parents and his parents’ friends and even some familiar occult and ethereal beings Aunt and Uncle. Never mind that these two were his self-appointed godfathers. It was all the same to him.

Anathema and Newt didn’t count. Anathema was only two years older than his sister Sarah, so really, she was practically his sister too, only _way_ cooler. And closer. Sarah studied and lived in Edinburgh and didn’t really come home anymore. He could make her, he thought for a second, but he knew that wouldn’t be right and dismissed the thought before the Universe could hear it.[✿]

14 You, and millions of other people, Newt included, might have seen those in _Doctor Who_. The only difference between all those people and Crowley was that he knew it was not, in fact, sci-fi but rather inspired by true events. The stories might be fictional, but the planets and races inhabiting them were most definitely real. Or would be, in the future. The Almighty told you about Gallifrey, didn’t She?

And no, it _wasn’t_ Crowley’s fault. Oddly enough, this was all Heaven’s mess.[✿]

15 And she has met a few, too! Even a real Martian! Lucifer had _great_ friends. She was 200% sure she _would_ become a President of Mars one day.[✿]


	16. in which things begin to turn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i put this and [the prequel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20209264) (read it if you haven't yet!!! it's soft!!!) in their own series, separate from the dc stuff, for better organisation. 
> 
> cos you're guessing correctly: this absolutely isn't all from this universe! the series will have at least FIVE instalments, two further one-shots and a multi-chapter ineffable bureaucracy thing running parallel with this. i'll start working on all that after this is finished—but you can go ahead and SUBSCRIBE to the series so you won't miss it! <3

‘Lucifer.’

Chloe was deeply exasperated by his perfectly normal and reasonable reasoning. He could tell.

He sighed. It was all about _Adam_ these days. First Chloe didn’t appreciate him not bothering her with knowledge of his existence, and then she didn’t like that it was all a lie, apparently, because her own child seemed to be interested in him, contrary to what Lucifer had claimed.

Like that had anything to do with Lucifer. _He_ didn’t invite him to the chatroom, now did he?

‘And what would you have me do about it? Tell my son, whom I do not _care about_ , to stop being online friends with Beatrice? As if that would be of any help!’

On the other side of the video call, Chloe knit her eyebrows together and ate another piece of doughnut. Lucifer wished he could get those in Hell[1]. ‘No, I don’t mean—’ she said around a mouthful of pastry. ‘I’m just worried.’

‘Hello worried, I’m Lucifer,’ he said, because he was obliged to make Dad Jokes now, wasn’t he?

At any rate, Chloe didn’t seem to let go of it, despite his insistence that it was all one big misunderstanding—one big _avocado_ , Hastur might say. Disgusting, squishy mess with one big stone in the middle. And Adam was the stone.

‘Ha-ha.’ Chloe’s glare was a little too close to an eye-roll. She lifted the doughnut up to take another bite but then reconsidered and lowered it again. ‘Okay, looking past the whole—’ he imagined her making a wide-encompassing gesture ‘—Antichrist thing, I think he _does_ actually seem nice[2]. It’s not that, it’s…’

Lucifer folded his arms on his chest. The mobile safely sat on his desk, propped by a stack of manila folders. None of them was greasy or otherwise filthy, and that was the success of the century. ‘What, Detective?’

‘She’s asking about Hellhounds and trips to England and martial arts classes[3],’ she said. It wasn’t just exasperation, he noticed; she was _tired_. She ran a hand through her hair. ‘She won’t put her phone down. And her math grades are dropping. It’s—it’s a little overwhelming sometimes, without you here.’

Oh.

Also, who cared about _maths_ , that was the least important thing in all of being. Honestly. But of course, one of his demons had once thought that it would be excellent torture for the humans, and they had been right, so Earth had started doing it, and parents had started caring about grades and punishing their children if they were low.

She looked him in the eye, as much as that was possible through the screen, and said, ‘I still miss you.’

‘Me too, Chloe. You have no idea what I’d give to have your company Down Here instead of those halfwits,’ he scoffed.

Although they had stopped asking for more paid leave and lower rent, they still had to initiate random street fights that always led to discorporation paperwork and send weird requests his way. Most recently, it was about classic rock music concerts.

Yes, _Supernatural_ was to blame. Yes, he _did_ sign getting some musicians out of their loops. No harm in more collective fun, eh? Nirvana last week was _trending_ on Hell’s slow-as-Hell internet.

‘Are they causing too much trouble?’ Chloe asked, sincere. ‘I don’t _know_ anything, and yeah, I know that’s on me, but…’ she trailed off. Lucifer could make out some shouting behind her.

‘There’s always trouble in Hell, or it wouldn’t be Hell,’ he half-laughed.

Chloe ignored him and turned around. She said, ‘Yeah, Monkey, I’m talking to Lucifer. Wanna say hi?’

For a moment there, Lucifer could only see blurry shapes and shaking furniture as Chloe passed the phone to her daughter. Then said daughter waved at him and grinned. There was glitter on her face, for some inexplicable reason. ‘Hi, Lucifer!’

‘Hello, Urchin,’ he said, and didn’t know what to add. He absolutely didn’t expect this.

Thankfully, she took charge of the conversation. ‘I talked to Adam again today! He said he didn’t like you, but I think that’s a load of _bullshirt_.’

‘Trixie, no swear words,’ Chloe said off-screen. Lucifer remembered teaching her this one, and all the other loophole curses, and a proud, nostalgic smile made it to his lips.

Trixie turned to her confidently. ‘That’s _not_ technically a real swear word, Mummy.’

‘It’s enough for the jar,’ Chloe whispered, though loud enough for him to hear her. She was persistent, and he missed her even more; that fierce attitude and stares that got right under the criminals’ skin even despite his powerful presence.

‘ _Fine_ ,’ Trixie sighed. ‘Anyways. I tried to tell him that you’re the coolest ever. He wouldn’t listen,’ she shook her head in disbelief, or maybe at the boy’s stupidity, ‘ _but_ he told Linda things about angel babies and sent me pictures of Dog and also of him and his own supernatural family. He has an angel and a demon too, just like Maze and Amenadiel! And he has powers too, just like you[4]! So he’s all right, even if he’s a boy.’

Lucifer _really_ didn’t want to hear about this. You probably noticed. He’s mentioned it a few times before.

‘Good for him,’ he said dryly. ‘Can you pass me back to your mummy now, Little Urchin? We were talking about something Important.’

She, true to her mummy, rolled her eyes and returned the mobile to Chloe with a cheery, ‘Bye, Lucifer!’

‘Where were we?’ Lucifer asked when he looked upon the detective’s face once again. He uncrossed his arms and clapped his hands together. ‘Ah, right. Hell. Well, much hasn’t changed in the three weeks you haven’t called.’

Chloe paused and blinked.

He didn’t mean to sound passive-aggressive. He just had an unintentional knack for bluntly stating the truth if anyone asked, like Chloe perhaps. Honest to Mother.

‘I said I needed time, Lucifer,’ she said. Her eyes were apologising. ‘And so much has happened since, with—with Trixie, and work. I’m sorry, Lucifer, I—’

‘Don’t be,’ Lucifer said immediately, and he meant it. _She_ wasn’t the one in their relationship with a history of running away when things got serious and somehow ending up screwing things up and screwing strangers he found in clubs. ‘I get it.’

‘Does that mean you admit you were being an idiot and won’t do it again?’ she raised an eyebrow.

‘Does that mean I’m forgiven?’ he asked. It was a dangerous word to use in Hell.

‘Okay, Lucifer—I think I have to accept that you won’t change, and this is what you _do_ ,’ she said. But there was affection. A contagious smile. ‘So yeah, you’re forgiven. But you’ll _tell me_ about any and all big things from now on whether they seem relevant to you or not, okay?’

‘Yes, Detective, I will,’ he nodded. Then he wiggled in his chair and raised a conspiratorial eyebrow. ‘As long as you’ll let me make up for the lost time?’

It was possible he was seeing things on the small screen, but he noticed that her cheeks turned somewhat pink when she said, ‘You’re such an ass sometimes.’

‘Why, thank you! My arse is indeed one of my defining features.’

Chloe snorted. ‘ _Later_ , okay? We still promised to visit Linda and Amenadiel. In fact, we’re gonna be late if we don’t go now.’

‘Right.’ Lucifer sighed. Of _course_ things were never easy and Lucifer could hardly ever get what he wanted. ‘Although I’m sure my dear old brother would understand—’

‘Lucifer.’ There it was again.

‘Fine, yes, submit me to even more misery and go see my nephew. Don’t forget to remind his family how much I’m suffering at their expense, will you?’

‘Sure, Lucifer.’ She didn’t sound convinced. She probably thought he was joking, which he was, but very seriously.

‘I mean it. That boy needs to be taught a lesson.’

‘He’s three months old; I don’t think he would grasp much of what anyone would say to him.’

‘Right. Yes.’

Human age was still confusing for him, sometimes. He was almost eight billion years old; what was _three months_ compared to that? Frankly, he had no idea whether Beatrice was eleven or eleven hundred. It was all the same to him.

He didn’t tell Chloe that. He said, ‘Just go, Detective. If later is a promise?’

Chloe winked at him a _little_ too awkwardly. She said, voice low and very sexy if you asked Lucifer, ‘We’ll see.’

‘ _God_ , I love you.’ It was a slip-up, his Mother’s name[5]. He didn’t care, really.

Chloe laughed, and if he had to tell you the truth, he would say that it was all worth it. Everything. You name it. Even the queuing demons and plants that had to learn to live without proper photosynthesis. And then she said those three little words back.

‘Goodbye for now, then.’ Looking her in the eye and mentally repeating the entire ending of this conversation, which had earlier been an only half-welcome hold-up from the never-ending piles of work at best, he ended the call.

When he saw that his battery was on 22%, he willed the mobile to charge itself[6]. He didn’t care about hating miracles right now. Quite the contrary: he put on a playlist with a mere thought, too.

He put the mobile down and got back to stamping the DENIED mark on transfer requests. He couldn’t have the demons slacking off somewhere in Mars Department, where there was hardly any work because most souls came to Hell from Earth, now could he? They had had their chance to run before he returned.

He didn’t even get through five of them before someone banged on his door[7].

It could never last long in Hell’s climate, good mood. Of-bloody-course not.

‘Go away!’ Lucifer yelled, but that didn’t dissuade them from entering.

Ah, right. It was one of those annoying Hellion triplets who got discorporated so often that no one bothered them with the paperwork and just gave them the same body over and over without so much as a glance, because they would inevitably end up at the desk the next day with the same problem, and, look. It’s been going on for centuries. No one cared anymore. They kept discorporating them[8].

Maybe they should just leave them incorporeal. It would solve a lot of issues.

‘What do you want?’ Lucifer drawled. He noticed the clipboard in his hands.

The demon cleared his throat. ‘My Lord, I erm, need you to sign this. There’s a package for you outside.’

A package? That was highly unusual. ‘From whom?’ he asked.

‘Doesn’t say, My Lord.’ He handed the clipboard over, together with a purple pen, and fluttered his long eyelashes. Lucifer had stopped trying to tell him that the false lashes were supposed to go on the upper eyelids ages ago.

Lucifer briefly skimmed over the details and then scrawled his sigil on the signature line. He thrust the clipboard into the demon’s hands and said, ‘Bring it to me, then.’

He bowed his head and scurried out of the chamber. He returned with a tiny box that barely covered the palm of his hand, rectangular and made of perfectly polished metal. There was a sticker on it, but nothing more than that. Lucifer squinted at it most suspiciously.

He sent the demon off and once he was alone, he turned the box over in his hands. It certainly didn’t come from Hell. It was too clean and _new_ for that.

Could it be…?

No, why would _Heaven_ send him anything? It was cold enough to the touch, but there were no traces of celestial energy.

‘Hmm,’ Lucifer hummed, and finally decided to open it. If it blew up in his face, it couldn’t kill him in a way that mattered anyway.

Now, he only needed to find out _how_ one could go about opening it.

After a five minutes’ struggle, he got the brilliant idea that he could try to will it open, when he was already on what practically counted as a miracle spree in his books, and shook his head at his own incompetence. The dull atmosphere of Hell must really be getting to him, bless it.

The box opened with a click. Inside was a small, oblong piece of paper.

Lucifer unfolded it. There was a message. The handwriting was an untidy scrawl, and it wasn’t the first time he saw that particular script. He remembered it from back when paperwork was still mostly his domain.

_Dear Lucifer, O Lord of Darkness and Expensive Suits,_

_I heard that telly nights were a success in Hell. It’s brilliant if you ask me. No need to thank me ;)_

_Listen, all that streaming was a bit hard on the AI and there was an awful lot of viruses so Ray had this idea to copy half the database_ [9] _onto that flash drive from 2136. It’s stolen. Should work in Hell. Probably. Just point it at a wall and press the big button, that shit makes holograms._

_It’s his thanks for saving him when Neron possessed him_ [10] _, but he has appalling taste in films and doesn’t know bugger-all about demons so all’s on me. I made sure it has B99 and Tarantino and everything that makes fun of angels. Also some documentaries cos they really need to LEARN._

_Good luck with whatever’s happening Down There. I’m coming back never. That’s a statement, not a request. You can promote someone to my post or something._

_Cheers, D._

Dantalion, or as they preferred to call themself on Earth, Charlie.

It was all written in English and signed with just the letter _D_ instead of the Duke’s sigil. They’ve gone more native than Crowley, Lucifer observed with a sigh, and made a mental note to tell Dagon to just cross their name out of the payroll and approve one (1) request for promotion.

Then he fished out a rectangular device out of the box and studied it. It was made of the same metal. _From the future_. There was only one button, which eliminated any and all confusion, so even demons will be able to use it after he inevitably returns to Earth. Probably. Hopefully. He tried pressing it.

In front of him, a list of images materialised out of thin air. They were film posters.

‘Oh, it _works_ ,’ he said out loud, pleased. ‘Very nice.’

Now, however, was not the time to get acquainted with it. He pressed the button again and successfully turned it off. He would figure out how to use it later. It was Sunday, and Friday wouldn’t come until five days later. And anyway, they still had four seasons of _Supernatural_ to get through.

Side note: they didn’t hate Castiel as much anymore. Not since he went rogue and summoned all the Leviathans[11], anyway.

Lucifer threw the device into a drawer full of Small Office Knickknacks so he wouldn’t lose it and picked up the mobile. He typed up a quick thank-you message, electing not to mention the slightly unprofessional style of the note. That would somewhat beat the purpose, he imagined.

Then he sent another one to the chat that had the angels in it. Heaven might own the ™ on the secrets of time travel, but they didn’t have a demon-pacifying device from the future!

Well. They won’t do any work on Fridays whatsoever once it’s introduced, or stop the influx of requests, that much was obvious. But they will, hopefully, get properly used to the new regime[12] and admit that they could have no better King than Lucifer.

That will, hopefully, lead to precisely zero (0) rebellions in the future. And his lasting departure.

Because delicious truth be told: Hell has _already_ started to properly stabilise under his rule. He only had to get his wings out and shout at the top of his lungs _once_ when the Informative Meeting About Interdepartmental Relationships turned into a fiery debate[13], and that was that.

Everyone knelt in front of their King. Things calmed down. Demonkind had to accept the new truth: Heaven was still the Enemy, the Opposition, but the so-called Fraternising was decriminalised. If a demon wanted to play Cluedo with an angel, or be Facebook friends with them, or have sex with them, they were free to do so.

Again, the game nights were a different matter altogether. Don’t mention those.

Some booed and cried out in rage. Most were indifferent. But some were _glad_.

To be honest, Lucifer wasn’t surprised. He knew that the clerks on stairwell duty always talked and shared sandwiches[14].

After that short and necessary display of power, Hell listened to every word he said. He had 101% of their respect where there had only been 89% before. Despite all those sodding demands and complaints, they _worked_.

All things considered, what he established in the past two months was eerily close to the rule of law he needed in order to safely return to LA and monitor things remotely, via texts and video conferences.

But.

As thoroughly proved minutes ago, you couldn’t have nice things in Hell. Not for long. There would always be an explosion somewhere and demons sleeping off a hangover instead of working somewhere else. And that was why he hasn’t told Chloe yet. He really, _really_ didn’t want to jinx it.

And—his mobile beeped. Lucifer grinned, expecting Gabriel writing something indignant in response to his gloating, or Crowley’s line of question marks and bewildered rambling. He was already preparing the smug replies in his head.

He was wrong. It was Beatrice. Why on Earth—?

•

**detective’s small human**

**Text Message**  
**4:27 PM**

I almost forgot

mrs. jones told us to make  
something for father’s day so I  
made u this!!! sorry I can’t give  
it to u in person :(((

ik you’re not my father but

I miss u, luficer

Lucifer

[memomandlucifer.jpeg]

it’s lovely, thank you, child.  
very… surrealistic

thanks!!!

when will u be coming back?

hopefully before the holidays, but  
I can’t promise anything

AWESOME

can YOU promise ME something?

hmmmmm what’s in it for me

I’ll give you chocolate cake  
when I’m back

I want a hellhound

no

cake and some cash

ok we have a deal

excellent

don’t tell mummy about this, ok?  
me telling you I might be coming  
back, I mean. I don’t want to get  
her hopes up and then getting  
stuck here for another month

ok I won’t

IF you talk to Adam cuuuz he  
might also be texting u right now

that was not the deal

also, why?

cuz I told him to

ok lucifer we’re going to Linda’s  
now I gotta go

see u soon!!! and talk to him!!!

you little demon

I’m taught by the best 😉

•

_Father’s Day_. Humans loved to celebrate that kind of thing, didn’t they? Ridiculous. Lucifer—well. He hated it on principle.

Still—it would be a lie to say he wasn’t moved by Beatrice’s picture, even if it was terrible and she got all the proportions wrong. That was _not_ what bodies looked like, or trees, or anything else. It was about the Gesture.

She sent him this, on Father’s Day, because she saw him as a father figure. It was, well. Something.

Also, absolutely preposterous. He was no one’s father. And still hated it.

Except the _whole bloody Universe_ seemed to disagree, didn’t it? It wasn’t just Chloe, or Crowley, or whoever. Now the Urchin conspired against him too and forced something _neither of them_ clearly wanted on them. Lucifer just wanted to deny forms in peace, but no, he had to talk to the child.

For a promise was a promise, however loopholish it was.

And he had to give her that: her methods were no short of demonic. She would make a great Temptress, or Soul Trader, truly[15]. Mazikeen was a good— _bad_ —influence on her.

And apparently, it was enough to make Adam deliver on his promise to her too. Brilliant.

• 

**adamyoung:** happy father’s day to the dad who had no idea I existed!!! I hope you rot in hell

 **thedevil:** that’s very rude, as it’s what I’m currently doing

 **adamyoung:** Trixie said to be nice but 🤷♂️

 **thedevil:** I guess you are my son after all, rebellious to the bone

 **adamyoung:** maybe. I still don’t care

 **thedevil:** that makes two of us

 **thedevil:** you can go now, I have work to do, forms to deny, demons to-

 **thedevil:** well actually, they’re not doing anything out of line

 **adamyoung:** really?

 **thedevil:** didn’t I say you could go

 **adamyoung:** and then kept talking

 **thedevil:** tbh I’m bored

 **adamyoung:** yeah me too, Brian is sick and Wensley is visiting his gran so it’s just me & Pepper & Dog

 **thedevil:** those are your local small human associates?

 **adamyoung:** _friends_ , they’re my _friends_

 **thedevil:** friends, then

 **thedevil:** did you know that thanks to you, beatrice won’t shut up about getting a hellhound and chloe is getting migraines because of it?

 **adamyoung:** give her a hellhound then, that’s easy

 **adamyoung:** you gave me one 🤷♂️

 **thedevil:** that wasn’t me, I was peacefully living my life in la at the time

 **thedevil:** you ruined that, you know

 **adamyoung:** yeah and it was the right thing to do but you grown ups won’t understand that, all you care about is your stupid war and what must and mustnt be done and _yourselves_

 **thedevil:** hang on, do you think I wanted the war? because I _really_ didn’t

 **thedevil:** this physically hurts me but _thank you_ for that one

 **thedevil:** except the demons bloody didn’t think so so they kidnapped charlie and then forced me to go back to hell when id rather be on earth with my real family, I hate it

 **adamyoung:** so you love earth too, right.

 **thedevil:** I do! didn’t your little text friend tell you

 **adamyoung:** well

 **adamyoung:** Linda did and also about Charlie and what you did

 **adamyoung:** but that doesn’t change anything for me

 **thedevil:** you really talk to linda? do u even _know_ anything about how nephilim children work

 **adamyoung:** I do, I am one

 **adamyoung:** do _you_?

 **thedevil:** well… no

 **adamyoung:** didn’t think so

 **thedevil:** I _do_ know that angel children grow into power at 11, cos you can’t have toddlers creating nonsense and destroying things with their toddler brains, and same should go for nephilim, except they’re born corporeal so it’s a little difficult to guess what will happen, especially with wings

 **thedevil:** really, you should be able to manifest wings too if you wanted

 **adamyoung:** well I don’t, I wanna have nothing to do with anything

 **adamyoung:** I dunno why I’m still talking to you

 **thedevil:** cos I am very irresistible and my charms work even through text messages

 **adamyoung:** I don’t think that’s true

 **thedevil:** oh come on, does no one ever actually believe that?

 **adamyoung:** I’m guessing no

 **thedevil:** ungrateful child

 **adamyoung:** honestly idk why Trixie likes you, you’re the DEVIL

 **thedevil:** appearances can be deceiving and so can names, honestly, the whole “the devil made me do it” business is a load of rubbish. I only punish, well, _punished_ people who already got to hell all by themselves. this job is more bureaucratic than anything. bloody paperwork

 **thedevil:** and despite the popular opinion, I’m not some large beast, I’m devilishly handsome and everyone can’t help but love me when they meet me

 **thedevil:** I am _still_ an angel, you know

 **adamyoung:** how come that didn’t work on me or anyone at the air base then if you’re so awesome?

 **thedevil:** that would be… you being my son I suppose, it only works on humans

 **thedevil:** except for chloe

 **adamyoung:** is she an angel too?

 **thedevil:** no, she’s the last time mummy dear ever interfered with earth

 **thedevil:** things would be much easier if the demons fell to my feet because they loved me rather than feared me, let me tell you, but hell is, well

 **adamyoung:** designed to be ugly and unpleasant and unlovable

 **thedevil:** precisely

 **thedevil:** I’m redecorating though, with crowley

 **adamyoung:** uncle crowley? really?

 **adamyoung:** he was pretty certain on destroying you the last time

 **thedevil:** we talked things out

 **thedevil:** and _uncle crowley_??? oh dear

 **adamyoung:** well he’s _nice_ , he and uncle zira stop by sometimes and bring biscuits and dog loves him

 **thedevil:** the little urchin told me, yes

 **adamyoung:** _redecorating?_

 **thedevil:** yes, well, we’re trying to make it a nicer and more pleasant work environment, go with the times a little and introduce new methods to everything, computers, plants, hygiene,

 **adamyoung:** so like an anti rebellion? making them uncomfortable with comfort? cor

 **thedevil:** that’s- exactly the idea

 **adamyoung:** does hell have like wooden swords and boxing bags and bikes and things for demons to play with after work and release the anger and stuff

 **thedevil:** this isn’t a playground, child, this is _hell_

 **thedevil:** wait, did you say boxing bags

 **thedevil:** you might be onto something there

 **adamyoung:** brilliant

 **thedevil:** perhaps I’ve underestimated you, there might be some potential in you yet

 **thedevil:** tell me, how many girlfriends have you had? boyfriends? what’s your favourite brand of alcohol? because no son of mine would even drink cheap stuff

 **adamyoung:** I’m 11 I’m not allowed to drink or have girlfriends or boyfriends

 **thedevil:** ah, what a pity, you don’t know what you’re missing on

 **adamyoung:** but pepper and me think we’ll marry each other one day and Brian will marry Wensley and we’ll all live together and with Dog

 **thedevil:** I see, sticking with multiple partners, very modern thinking

 **thedevil:** the devil approves

 **adamyoung:** so you think that’s a good idea? my mum and dad only laughed at me and told me that’ll never happen

 **adamyoung:** my mum and dad aren’t very clever

 **thedevil:** well, try having parents who care about some aliens more than you and your siblings

 **thedevil:** and they really thought their little family affair would last forever and that everything was just perfect

 **thedevil:** let me tell you, parents lie

 **adamyoung:** how do I know you’re not lying right now, you’re a parent

 **thedevil:** I’m really not

 **adamyoung:** right

 **adamyoung:** you made it very clear that you wanted to have nothing to do with me and now you’re talking to me. that’s lying

 **thedevil:** I could say the same thing about you

 **adamyoung:** yeah I don’t care 🤷♂️

 **thedevil:** neither do I

 **adamyoung:** ok

 **thedevil:** ok

 **adamyoung:** …

 **thedevil:** ok you’re bloody stubborn you know that

 **adamyoung:** I guess I take after you in something then

 **thedevil:** :/

 **thedevil:** mother bless it, you do, don’t you

 **thedevil:** well I suppose this wasn’t a completely awful conversation

 **adamyoung:** actually-

 **adamyoung:** yeah

 **adamyoung:** your not as bad as I thought

 **thedevil:** *you’re

 **adamyoung:** I take it back

 **thedevil:** no, I’m sorry

 **thedevil:** I guess I needed reminding

 **thedevil:** but I do actually have work to do now

 **thedevil:** don’t text me again

 **adamyoung:** I wasn’t about to

 **thedevil:** great

 **thedevil:** bye, offspring

 **adamyoung:** my name is Adam

 **thedevil:** …

 **thedevil:** horrible name if you ask me

 **adamyoung:** why, cos you’d like your son to have a more demony name?

 **thedevil:** no, it reminds me of my other ex, who I hope won’t follow the example of his dear old wife and come visit me on earth, one of them was enough

 **thedevil:** and I imagine eve wouldn’t be too happy about it

 **adamyoung:** like the original Adam & Eve?

 **thedevil:** yes

 **thedevil:** she’s in la with mazikeen, maybe you’ve heard

 **adamyoung:** you’re so old. also eugh

 **thedevil:** I’m only 8 billion years old, that’s nothing on the almighty bugger

 **adamyoung:** how much is 8 billion? I heard at school that the universe is supposed to end in 6 billion years

 **adamyoung:** I don’t want it to end after all that trouble

 **thedevil:** don’t worry, I don’t think you’ll be alive to see that

 **thedevil:** it’s a lot of years

 **adamyoung:** but you will cos you’re immortal

 **thedevil:** yes, but I can always move to a different universe after this one ends

 **thedevil:** if it does, cos who knows with mum

 **adamyoung:** cor blimey

 **adamyoung:** if I’m your son does that mean im immortal too?

 **thedevil:** no idea, child

 **thedevil:** you told the universe I wasn’t your father and it listened so probably not

 **adamyoung:** that’s fine too cos I wouldn’t wanna live when my friends wouldn’t anyway

 **adamyoung:** well I’ve got to go cos I’m meeting with Pepper

 **thedevil:** yes, like I said, paperwork, so

 **adamyoung:** bye

 **thedevil:** yes, bye

•

So that happened.

Frowning, Lucifer put down the phone and reached for the alcohol always hidden in his desk. He drank straight from the bottle. He didn’t tell Chloe or Beatrice about this either.

Though he had to admit, it indeed _wasn’t_ a completely awful conversation.

* * *

1 Miracles just didn’t do it. It wasn’t the same, you know? Nothing could copy the pink, sugary icing only that one bakery near the precinct mastered to excessively sweet perfection to the t. _Nothing_.[✿]

2 Judging by what she’s gathered from the texts, anyway. No, she wasn’t spying on her daughter. Trixie showed them to her sometimes, especially when there was a photo attached. She’s been listening to her talking about Dog the Hellhound at least twice a week.[✿]

3 That one had more to do with Mazikeen, but it was no less worrying.

Well, there was also being online friends with some of the teenage vigilantes. That’s for the other fic, but since we’re here anyway, we can mention that one of them was the half-demon half-human Raven, who happened to be Adam’s cousin, as her demonic father was one of Lucifer’s Actual Brothers. So it _did_ have something to do with Adam too, albeit indirectly. Yes, Adam knew about her. They talked on the chat.

Side note, because it’s funny: her father, Trigon, tried to take Earth (and some other planets) last year too, before Neron ever did, and was stupid enough to try and go about it by mentally subduing her and her friends. Black eyes and all. But a guy, whom the demon thought dead but who actually transformed into a green snake, got her out of her trance, and she realised that no, she didn’t want to rule the world with her father, that she’d rather be with her family and have them intact and devoid of any demonic presence, and rejected him the exact same way Adam had. He discorporated on the spot and hopefully died, and so, Earth was safe. You know, cousins indeed. [ _Titans_ season 2 episode 1][✿]

4 He couldn’t get even _close_ to having powers just like him. Adam had bits and remains of his world-shaping abilities at best, while Lucifer was one of the three most powerful beings in the whole Universe, should he decide to use any of his powers besides the occasional miracle or outburst of divine energy to scare idiotic demonkind into submission, or some enhanced strength he had to use on Earth a couple of times during cases. He didn’t like to do that. But that didn’t mean he _couldn’t_. Hell, he could open portals to Hell or to other dimensions with his bare hands and fly around the Earth faster than Superman.[✿]

5 God pricked up Her proverbial, metaphysical ears. She _might_ have just said, ‘Oooh, nice, son, nice.’[✿]

6 Crowley never had this sort of problem. His mobile never ran out of charge, because he didn’t know it was supposed to.[✿]

7 He established knocking as a demon’s obligation when dealing with those who were fortunate enough, and therefore high-ranking enough, to own an actual office with a door. It certainly led to fewer embarrassing moments. Once, a very chatty accountant walked in on Lilith and Asmodeus doing each other’s nails and eating Earth-made vegan burritos while perusing Venusian porn magazines instead of work, and, well. It didn’t do much to strengthen their authority, so to speak.

That being said, demons had _no idea_ how to knock properly. It was exhausting.[✿]

8 It was easier than trying things out by oneself and then waiting in a queue for a pen to write the paperwork out with and then in another queue for handing it over and then in _another_ for the body. It took _days_ sometimes.[✿]

9 We’re talking about Dantalion’s time-travelling Legends and their futuristic AI again. She had a database of all films, shows, series, programmes, books, scrolls, documents, and treaties ever created by humanity, including everything from Alexandria’s library, all the way to the 2160s. Aziraphale would love it. Good thing he didn’t know.[✿]

10 When a demon possessed a human, their soul immediately went to Hell, regardless of their life or proclivities. This was why Lucifer has banned possession: it was deeply unfair towards the humans. And he had to manually release all the souls after the demons were exorcised or ordered to get back by their superiors, because he was the only one with the clearance to do so. It was a lot of work. He did this for the Ray bloke too.[✿]

11 Leviathan the Prince of Hell was especially pleased about this. There was a whole species named after them! They were wonderfully wicked, too, the creatures. [✿]

12 Honestly, it was almost like half a weekend! Hell has never seen anything like that before. Well, not since Heaven, anyway, but they had Sundays off, not Fridays. This was a completely new, innovative idea.[✿]

13 Hellfire-involving. Literally. Hastur started it.[✿]

14 There was four of them, two from each Side, which was what made it so fascinating. No matter whose shift it was, they always had the silent agreement: they were stuck there together anyway, so how about they got over their Bosses’ differences and Talk? The work was _boring_. Really, all they had to do was look up when someone entered, check whether they had the right permit, and make sure no fights between opposing Sides broke out.[✿]

15 Being a demon was cool, Trixie thought. She saved that as her backup career option if she wasn’t elected Mars’s first, or any, President.[✿]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone: lucifer enforcing order in hell is a bloody battle and lucifer barely even survives  
> me: the path to a demon's loyalty is through team building and television


	17. in which we travel back in time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive me for the wait. i caught a cold this week and had to adjust my sleep schedule to getting up early again, so no more writing till 1 am on weekdays... and this chapter generally took a while to write because guess what i had to do a lot of!!! historical research!!! cos it's flashback time ft. Three Important Crowley Moments
> 
> it has way too many footnotes and all the cliches but i'm not sorry in the slightest :)

**EDEN, 4004 BC**

The first time Lucifer has ever personally asked something of Crowley—Crawly, Raphael, the rankless snake demon from the basement, whoever—was in the Garden.

Yes, it was the apple thing.

However, the circumstances of _how_ everyone ended up the way they did were somewhat different from what probably came to your mind right now. Every single story got it Wrong.

It began with a certain demon being suddenly overwhelmed with Curiosity about the brand-new planet that has just started spinning and so far had no more than two inhabitants: Earth.

He has just returned from an epoch-long ~~holiday~~ assignment in the Pegasus Dwarf Spheroidal[1] and found a dusty pile of files on his desk, which was frankly horrifying even for Hell’s standards, and decided that no, he will _not_ be dealing with this right now.

Everyone needed a bit of a holiday after a holiday. You know, sitting back, relaxing, and emphatically not doing anything for at least three days to get used to being back home and having to work again, get over the tiring journey, and sleep off the jet-lag, or, in his case, wing-lag.

He’s even had to pull out his first pair, flying so far through deep space. It was horrible[2].

So instead of filling out senseless questionnaires and tax reports, Crawly went up to Earth. Or, to be more precise, back to the mortal plane which Earth was situated in, and which was not so much _up_ as sort of _sideways_. He had to see God’s final project.

Partially so he could scoff at it and yell various curses up at Her, and partially because he loved the New Planet Smell and, yeah, he said it, didn’t he, about being incorrigibly Curious?

There was no Earth Department yet[3], so there couldn’t be Rules about materialising on the planet straight from Helvetios Department, he reasoned, and found himself speeding across light-years faster than actual _light_ not ten seconds later.

Crawly landed on a desert. He knew deserts. They were dry and mostly disgusting. He needed to get out of there as fast as possible. Squinting in the sun, he looked around, and found out that luckily, he wasn’t _that_ far off from his destination: The Garden. 

He quickly made his way over to the walls, leaving footsteps in the hot sand. True to his name, he disguised himself as a small grass snake and slipped through a crack between the stones, somewhere between the Northern and Western Gates and right past the angels.

Not that he had anything against angels[4], per se, but these ones had swords, and he’d rather not end up facing their pointy, _flaming_ ends.

It was all surprisingly easy. One would think they would patrol the walls or something, but no, they were guarding their spots by the doors and didn’t think _someone_ would have the _chutzpah_ to try and get in through the _middle_. It was fascinating, and convenient, too. 

Still, Crawly made a note to adjust his teleportation skills and land _inside_ the walls the next time. If there would be a next time. He hoped there would. It was a nice planet, smelling like a tropical rainforest and a grandma’s backyard[5] at the same time and _very_ green. He liked green, him. And plants.

(Don’t tell the other demons.)

He crawled around for a while, smelling the new scents and enjoying the warm sun. It was a nice post-holiday holiday destination. 5/5 would recommend.

Then he found the Tree. He thought, _ooh, apples, good to know for future snack references_. But that was before he climbed up into its branches for a closer look and found the big sign on the trunk: DO NOT TOUCH[6].

‘Aw,’ he said, disappointed. ‘Decoration only. Ssssshould’ve thought ssssso.’

He would have moved on if he hadn’t seen the humans in the distance. He’d heard from a demon that their names were Adam and Eve, and that they were a primitive species designed from their own corporations, not knowing anything and generally being stupid but _happy_. The sign was clearly for them.

And he thought, _what would happen if they ate one of the apples?_

Or he would have thought that if he hadn’t been interrupted.

‘Oh, _hello_ ,’ said a smooth, captivating voice behind him. Crawly turned his little snake head and saw a man. An angel, he thought at first, sensing a celestial aura, and began to panic quite thoroughly, but then he caught a whiff of familiar brimstone and ash.

The panic didn’t subside. He was staring the Big Boss himself in the eye.

‘A lovely place, isn’t it?’ Lucifer continued. He looked around. He was wearing a white robe, Crawly noticed, held together with a belt made of silver and opals, and his wings were winched in. He was _masquerading_ as an angel[7]. ‘So _fascinating_. So full of _potential_. And those humans, oh, they will be so wonderful to corrupt, and _right_ in front of God’s salad[8].’

Crawly considered this and bobbed his head in something of an agreement. He couldn’t exactly _disagree_ , though. He could be seriously punished for that. Or for slacking off work and being there. Please leave?

Lucifer didn’t. He looked over the apple tree and plucked an apple. He turned it over in his hand: red, lustrous, immaculate. Snake or not, Crawly had a fancy for it. It looked positively mouth-watering. But.

The little demon shook his head and lowered his body to point at the sign.

Then he froze. That was a Stupid Move. He was _so_ going to die.

Lucifer laughed. ‘Oh please, as if that has ever stopped me before.’

He took a large bite of the apple. It—didn’t do anything. Hmm.

‘Now, I know you’ve been watching them.’ He used the bitten apple to point at Adam and Eve, sitting by a river and talking to each other in a completely novel language. Looking at the fruit, Crawly had another idea for the Save for Later Folder. ‘So have I. But I’ve never…’ Lucifer trailed off, shaking his head.

‘Listen, Crawly.’ Crawly’s pupils widened. Lucifer noticed. ‘Yes, I know it’s you. It’s all right; I won’t punish you for not being at your post. _If_ you help me with them.’

For the first time, Crawly spoke. He was Confused. ‘Erm, what?’

Lucifer took another bite of the apple and munched. He eyed the humans. Eve turned away from her husband and moved to sit a little further away from him. There was a sort of knowing, ominous smirk across Lucifer’s lips. Crawly didn’t like it.

‘You’re a Tempter, aren’t you? Tempt _her_ to eat this.’ Lucifer tossed the apple into the air and caught it again, once, twice. ‘The forbidden fruit. It’s nothing special, mind, God just wants to make compote and doesn’t want them finding out how good the apples taste and eating them all. It’s all about the perfect climate, or some other rubbish[9]. No, this is about the principle. _Sin_.’

Temptations, Crawly did best. He _has_ been doing it for what felt like forever, now. He looked between Lucifer and the couple—who didn’t seem to get along as well as everyone had told them to. Interesting.

‘Now, we can’t have Heaven taking free will from them, can we, Lord?’ Crawly asked, with something that might have been a smug smile had he been in human form. But he wasn’t, and his jaw sort of just hung open.

He immediately got an Idea.

‘Precisely,’ said Lucifer. ‘And if Eve eats the apple, well, what can stop her from having a bite of something else? The world offers more than just _that_ lump of a possessive idiot and more than _this_ kind of fruit, after all.’

Lucifer regarded Eve again. Then his gaze landed on said lump of idiot. ‘Although…’

And. Oh. His boss was trying to— _seduce them_. It was _that_ kind of temptation.

Crawly couldn’t help the hiss that escaped his lips. It was something between a nervous laugh and a call for help.

Lucifer turned to him. He understood all the languages of the Universe. ‘Oh, don’t tell me you’re a prude, Crawly,’ he said, mildly amused at his theatrics.

He wasn’t. He did this all the time. It was just—just—those were the first specimens of a whole _species_ and Lucifer wanted to lead them astray and shag them just to give God the metaphorical finger.

Crawly, as a proper demon, knew he shouldn’t feel bad about that, but the truth was that he _felt_ _bad about that_ , and it was the opposite of the meaning of that word in Hell. Not to mention, this was mortifying, being a— _a matchmaker_ for Satan himself!

But it was also a brilliant idea. He had to give him that.

‘Me? Nah, Lord, abssssolutely not,’ he hissed again. ‘But do I really have to help with _that_ part?’

‘You do. It’s an order,’ said Lucifer with all the authority he could muster while simultaneously chewing on the apple. ‘I can’t just come up to them and say, “Hello, I want to prove the Almighty wrong and you’re gorgeous, want to fuck?”. I need them to know there are options first, you know, and show myself in a good light. Virtually, I will stand in that spot by the palm tree and look good and you will, you know. Tell them.’

‘But it’ssssss embarrassssing,’ Crawly certainly didn’t whine. ‘I mean, you’re—no disssssressspect, Lord—you’re the Prinssssse of Pride and Desssssire and can get your one-night ssssstand by yoursssself jusssst fine.’

‘You really don’t understand the situation, do you? I could turn you to dust right here right now if I but thought so, no matter who you are or used to be, brother. I could snap you in half. I could reassign you to the lowest position found in Hell, or throw you in the Pit for a millennium.’

Lucifer’s eyes burnt red, and Crawly felt the atmosphere shift. He bowed his head.

‘Slither along, then,’ Lucifer sent him off.

He did. He slithered all the way to the river, where Eve sat by herself and played with a kitten. The feline noticed him first and pawed at him curiously. He had to hiss to chase it away. And—time to do his best to sell the totally ordinary apples to her as if they were made of gold.

Making himself slightly larger, he crawled in front of Eve and elevated the upper half of his body. Front half? He didn’t really know. Either way—she smiled and said, ‘Hello, noodle creature[10].’

It ruined his plans somewhat. He would nearly sigh.

‘Ssssserpent,’ he corrected her. He pointed his tail in the direction of the Tree and wiggled. ‘Ssssssaw that?’ he whispered. She nodded, and Crawly lowered his tail. It was exerting, holding it up like that.

‘We can’t touch them, though,’ Eve pointed out the obvious.

‘Why doessss that matter? Go on,’ Crawly beckoned with his head. ‘Try. That apple will give you Knowledge. Infinite Knowledge of Good and Evil and Emotionsssss and all you can think of. That’sssss why it’sssss forbidden, you ssssssee. God doesssssn’t want you to Know. But you do, don’t you?’

Crawly prayed for this not to turn against him someday. He had a gut feeling that it _would_ [11]. But what he _didn’t_ have was a better idea.

‘Yeah!’ she said. She leant closer to Crawly. ‘Adam thinks he knows better than me because he’s older.’

Speaking of Adam: where did he run off to? Crawly couldn’t see him. It made his work harder, because then he would have to go through all this again with him, or emphatically tell Eve to share everything and cast a miracle or two.

But that was a problem for later.

‘What an injussssstissssse,’ he agreed. ‘They tassssste really good, too. I’d know. Well, not me per sssssse.’ He whipped his head around and frowned at Lucifer, leaning against the palm tree in his white robes, half _undone oh my lord_ , and looking, well, good. Interesting. Like he owned the place. Crawly didn’t want to think about it. ‘But _he_ doesssssss.’

Eve followed Crawly’s voice. She blinked slowly when she saw him. ‘Who’s _that_?’

‘Lussssssifer. He wantsssss to talk to you.’

‘Is he my next husband? Like I’m Adam’s second wife after— _her_ [12].’ 

Crawly had to mentally restrain himself from gagging at the thought of Lucifer being anyone’s _husband_. ‘Well, erm. That’sssssss all your choisssssse, issssssn’t it? You’re all about thessssse choisssssesssss. But you won’t find out if you don’t eat the apple.’

He impatiently wished this whole exchange to end very soon. _What of it?_

Eve got up and looked around. Adam still wasn’t in sight. ‘I already tried the leaves he called spinach. They weren’t very good. And a fish. Also not good.’

‘If you cook it over fire and add sssssome sssalt—’ Crawly began, spiralling. But he had a mission and had to _focus_. Cooking was irrelevant if it truly were to end. ‘Never mind. You’ll know how to make fissssssh tasssssste better, afterwardssss.’

Eve began to walk towards the Tree, and Crawly crawled beside her. He barely kept up. But he couldn’t just transform into a man if he knew what was good for him, so he added a bit of a miracle to his crawl and got there before she did.

‘Why would God put the Tree here if Ssssshe didn’t want anyone eating the applesssss, hmm?’ he said, one last argument. ‘Go on then, dear. Have one.’

Eve plucked a ripe apple. Crawly, having oodles of demonic imagination, convinced the fruit to imbue its consumer with basic knowledge of cooking with primitive resources and some fashion. He told himself it was to reinforce the authenticity of his ruse, but really, only _animals_ ate raw meat and walked about naked. It was undignified.

It was all about ruining God’s plans[13]. Not about helping the humans. Not at all.

She took a bite. It was crunchy and wonderful, and her face and eyes lit up all at once. She discovered true Taste. And then she devoured the rest of it in large, hungry gulps, core and all. She must have been _starving_.

‘Good, isssssn’t it?’ Crawly asked, utterly delighted. He climbed up the Tree so they would be on eye-level. Looking up all the time was making his neck ache.

He thought that he might take one of those apples for a future snack after all, and flaunt his diabolical achievement in front of his co-workers. Stealing from the Almighty! Oh, they would hate him so much. He was grinning already.

Eve moaned in delight. ‘I think I’ll have another one right now.’

‘Have four if you want,’ Crawly said. He tried to wink and failed miserably. You know. Snake form. ‘I won’t tell anyone.’

She plucked two, and he concluded it was time to go back to the Unpleasant Thing. ‘I’m ssssssure you’re asssssking yourssssself, “if the forbidden fruit tassssstessssss sssssssso good, what elsssssse issssss there for me to try that God doessssssn’t want me to have?”’

‘Do you mean _him_?’ she subtly nodded towards Lucifer, still sitting by the lowercase-t tree. He was starting to look bored. Served him right, too.

Not that Crawly would tell him that lest he be inconveniently discorporated.

‘The world…’ He had to take a breath to be able to continue with the next part. ‘It doesssssssn’t jussssst consssissssst of Adam. You can find out thingsssss for yoursssself. Do whatever _you_ want, not what God tellssssss you to. _Or_ —’ another deep breath, ‘—you can ssssshare them with Adam. Up to you. All of it.’

Eve decided. She put on a wicked smile and joined the Devil.

Crawly had no desire to wait around and see what happens next, so he crawled back to Hell. With a sigh, he picked up a quill[14] and began making his way through the paperwork pile on his desk.

He still came back to the Garden the next day, and the next, and the next, up until the day God cast Adam and Eve out of Eden for the whole Shagging the Enemy business some four months later. That was when he met Aziraphale.

He submitted an official, detailed, double-checked request for a transfer to Earth Department on the very same day.

**AUSTRALIA, 4003 BC**

The second time Lucifer asked something of him was when his request was finally approved a year later, and he waved his former planet goodbye and miracled all his possessions to a new desk[15].

That was also the day he found out he had been _wrong_.

Earth Department wasn’t a paradise. It meant working _directly_ under Lucifer himself and being under constant observance from the Princes and everyone else. It meant finding out that his little lie about the apples has indeed _spread_ and that even the angels believed it now, for some _ineffable_ reason.

They called it the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Honestly.

It meant finding out that Lucifer has taken credit for all of it. Of-bloody-course. Selfish prick. And that Eve has fallen in love with him. He looked ~~great~~ all right if he put the effort into covering all the burnt skin, but honestly? Crawly still didn’t understand.

He _made that happen_ , moreover. Ugh. He shuddered at the thought as if it were yesterday[16].

It also meant finding out he was being sent to the parched continent of Australia to tempt some of its indigenous inhabitants to sin before Heaven remembers that there’s no Principality on nation-guiding duty over there and remedies the situation.

‘You’ll do well, Crawly, don’t worry,’ the Devil told him. ‘If you don’t, into the Pit you go, with a Hellhound or two perhaps. So maybe you _should_ worry, but—consider it motivation.’

Crawly, wishing to be literally anywhere else, made a few Sounds and nodded. ‘Motivation. Sure.’

‘Off you pop, then!’ Lucifer said all too enthusiastically. There was a grin and all. ‘I’m not sending my best demon over there for nothing, darling. And they’re waiting.’

His chest sort of puffed up at hearing the words _best_ and _demon_ in association with him, but his brain didn’t cooperate and kept prattling on about not wanting to go to Australia and having to report to Beelzebub of all demons.

Nonetheless, Crawly gave the King a sharp nod and sauntered out of the office without thinking.

He doubted they were _waiting_ , but he packed his things, put on an airy robe-slash-dress, and went. One couldn’t argue with the Devil— _twice_. One could merely silently start hating him a little bit more and get used to inconvenient weather.

Emerging from the ground[17] roughly where Sydney would stand some five thousand years later, he sighed and went to find some humans. His serpent senses told him they weren’t far. His regular senses told him that the area wasn’t very fertile. No, it was _dull_.

He hasn’t even seen the fluffy, confused angel since he met him[18] on top of Eden’s Walls. Altogether, it was a bummer. He could do with some intelligent conversation. There was not much of that to go around in Hell. Or here.

Then the locals started worshipping him as a serpent god when he brought a little bit of rain to improve the soil situation and give himself a bath, and incidentally created a rainbow. He changed his opinion on them with great amusement[19].

She _liked_ most of the humans.

Never the Bosses, though.

**FLORENCE, 1348 AD**

The third time was certainly the _worst_ , because Crowley didn’t _anticipate it_.

About a week ago, Lucifer had received Heaven’s Annual Statement. That was normal. Happened every year. But when he opened it, he laid eyes on an article on the exact same issue Beelzebub had covered in zir reports: starting the Black Death.

He sent the Prince to check up on things in Paris and work it out with the Opposition. Perhaps you recall that that was the first time Gabriel and ze met outside of a battlefield[20].

They solved the credit-taking problem. Everything was fine. Crowley set his sights on taking a nap in a hammock somewhere in the Caribbean and not waking up until the current century is long past and gone. He loved sleeping, him. And hammocks. Clever new inventions.

But Beelzebub just _had to_ be difficult and say ze was above simple temptations despite _literally being on Earth_ , and so Lucifer had to tell his European field agent[21] to oversee a situation with Florence’s most influential men. Stirring up old feuds, or some similar rubbish. 

That wasn’t the worst part. Crowley loved doing this sort of thing. Pushing already corrupted rich merchants towards Hell was the best gig he could possibly get. He didn’t even have to lift a finger for the most part; they did everything themselves, and he could sit back, write his often-exorbitant reports, and do the sleeping on a straw mattress.

No, it was the _children_. The _deaths_. His old instincts kicking in and telling him to _help_.

If he were being honest, no one really knew what the humans had _done_ to deserve this: half the population of Europe gone, just like that. Or if they did, no one bothered to _tell him_.

Crowley got himself a room in the city centre, near the arising Santa Maria del Fiore, and bought lots of red wine. He would need that to survive this— _miserable_ period. Bloody fourteenth century. He hoped the next one would be a bit nicer[22].

Downing half a bottle of that wine, he got to work.

Crowley ran down the stairs of the inn, ready to snake his way through the filthy streets and the smell of death and decay, which was on the unpleasant side of _close to home_ [23], to meet with the first guildsman on his temptation list. Thankfully, he didn’t live far.

Crowley didn’t even round the corner. Twenty metres into his journey, a sickly little boy grabbed his leg with black fingers and pleaded for help. He felt like it was a trap.

‘No, I can’t help, I—’ the words died in his throat when the boy coughed and coughed and couldn’t stop, still clinging to him. Behind him sat two girls, huddled together against a wall and looking much worse for wear.

‘Ngk. No. I’m here on demon business,’ Crowley said to the children in a perfect Florentine dialect. They couldn’t see his glare behind the sunglasses. He _could_ see their glassy eyes and bloody clothes. ‘That’s what I am, a demon, do you hear me? I won’t—’

They kept staring. He sighed. ‘Oh, _fuck it_.’

Yup. Definitely a trap. And he’s fallen for it. It wasn’t like the temptations couldn’t wait.

He picked the boy up with one hand and the two girls with the other as if they didn’t weigh anything. They couldn’t have been older than six. Four, perhaps. Or maybe ten? Human age was confusing to him, a being older than all the planets in the Universe.

Holding them firmly in his arms, Crowley turned around and set out for his inn.

And collided with someone.

Aziraphale. Of course the angel was here too. Blessing these people and saving their lives, no doubt, or something equally chivalrous and angelic and nauseating. He should’ve bloody _known_.

Also, why the Hell did he have to be on the same bloody street in the same bloody city? It was too much of a coincidence to really _be_ a coincidence[24].

‘Crowley?’ Aziraphale asked, gathering his breath. His eyes flicked between Crowley, the children, and Crowley again. ‘May I ask, what exactly are you _doing_ here?’

‘Erm.’ He needed to come up with something plausible _quick_. ‘Stealing these children for our Lord and Master?’

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. ‘Try again.’

‘Tempting the heads of the ruling guilds into squabbles that will result in some revolts in the future. Technically,’ he said with a defeated sigh. His head beckoned towards the inn. ‘You?’

Aziraphale got the hint. He clasped his hands behind his back, clad in a delicate beige robe Crowley didn’t want to study too closely, and turned around to walk with him. The boy coughed up blood again. The angel said, ‘Ah, just some light blessings for these poor people. The Plague, it’s just _dreadful_.’

It took about a minute to get back to his humble quarters. No questions were asked. Crowley made sure of that when they walked past the owner and his wife.

He laid the three children onto a mattress on the floor and looked up at Aziraphale. The angel remained silent, but his face circulated back and forth between Judgement (towards Crowley), Worry (towards the children), and Delight (towards Crowley again).

Crowley sighed. ‘They’re clearly orphans, and they’re sick, and I couldn’t just—’

What, leave them there? He was a _demon_ , and three small human beings hardly _mattered_ , whether the scales were tipped in favour of Good or Evil for either of them. He was being pathetic. But it was too late to walk away from that one now.

He took a small step towards Aziraphale and jabbed an insistent finger into his front. ‘No word of this, do you _understand_?’

‘I do,’ he nodded. ‘Hell could…’

_Do horrible things to me if they found out? Right on spot, Aziraphale. Well done._

‘Anyway, what do you plan on doing with them? You’re a _demon_.’

Crowley lowered his hand and said, completely deadpan, ‘Thanks, I didn’t know.’

And—he didn’t think this through. Normally, he would just heal them. Not that there was a “normally”. No, that was 5000 years ago. And then on the Ark[25]. But that was it. He didn’t use his powers like that on a regular basis or anything.

But with Aziraphale there? He didn’t _know_.

Crowley stared at him, furrowing his brows and trying to force an Idea of fleeing into his head. Fruitlessly. Aziraphale merely raised a silver eyebrow.

‘Demons can do all sorts of things with humans. Even healing,’ he tried, walking to the other side of the scanty bed. One of the girls broke into a fit of vomiting and bloodied the linen sheet quite thoroughly. In his qualified opinion, she had a day to live at best.

Internally, he cursed at God. How could She just let this _happen_? Then he cursed at Lucifer for being heartless and sitting in his office, greedy for more and more souls to torture in new hell loops.

Aziraphale asked, ‘They can?’

‘Yeah.’ It wasn’t strictly _untrue_. All demons were once angels, so all demons could do some basic healing. But only on other demons, and certainly not plague-ridden human kids.

Crowley put a hand on the girl’s forehead and closed his eyes. He focused on her insides, on the rotting flesh, the bacteria causing this whole thing. And on getting it out. Aziraphale stepped closer and hovered next to the mattress; he could feel that too.

‘Are you going to help me or not?’ he asked. ‘It’s your area of expertise, isn’t it, altruism? Helping people? Being all holy?’

‘Right. Yes,’ he smiled nervously. Crowley was looking, now. He saw him kneel on the opposite of him and study the boy. ‘Although, I’m not technically…’

‘Technically _what_?’

‘Supposed to be here,’ he admitted. He placed his hands flat on the boy’s chest. ‘But I saw what was happening and couldn’t just do _nothing_ , Crowley. They’re all dying, and Heaven doesn’t give a _fig_. Gabriel is—he cares more about War preparations.’

Crowley wasn’t surprised.

He didn’t comment on it and instead focused a wave of occult energy into the little girl’s body. He didn’t worry about things like “proper procedure” or erasing the kids’ memories. They wouldn’t remember anyway, and even if they did, no one would believe them.

If people _did_ find themselves believing after all, they would claim it was the work of angels, and Heaven would be glad to claim some real miracle work as their own. And Crowley would let them enjoy the limelight. What were three miracles in all that was going on? Again, _nothing at all_.

She was instantaneously getting better. Buboes and black tissue and fever disappeared; her face regained some colour. Crowley stroked her greasy, mussed hair, and moved onto her sister.

Aziraphale wasn’t in such luck. Fixing someone’s broken leg was simple enough, but drawing all this sickness out of someone’s body, practically reversing their death? No matter how much angelic energy he pumped into him, the fever didn’t drop.

He was no healer. He had been, albeit reluctantly, a warrior.

‘Crowley, I think it’s too late for him. He isn’t getting better. I don’t know what to do,’ he said, and sent a panicked look the demon’s way. Well, maybe not panicked. Pleading. _Can you try?_

He nodded. ‘Let’s see.’

He would have to be careful not to let on too much here. He knew angels could sense Feelings and Energies. It was inconvenient at times like this. Or any times, really.

Crowley reached for the boy. His hand accidentally brushed against Aziraphale’s when he didn’t retreat quickly enough. There was Something there. But he was being professional here and illegally saving someone’s life; it was no time to think about his own Feelings. Again.

He poured a miracle—not so occult anymore—into the child’s frail form.

Aziraphale gasped.

‘That was no demonic healing, Crowley. I _felt_ that. It was like—like _love_.’

Ah, _shit_. He failed everything. Of course he felt that. They were inches apart. Crowley’s cheeks immediately decided to go flush. Because he was right.

Not to mention, hearing _that_ word come out of his mouth here, in this dark room in the middle of the gloomiest centuries, like _that_ —it sent a shiver down his spine.

‘Nonsense,’ he blurted. ‘Must’ve been someone else.’

‘Crowley, what’s going on?’

‘I, I, I—don’t wanna talk about it. Wine! I need wine. Phew, exhausting, this was. Want some? I have a bottle on the chest of drawers.’ He pointed at the only piece of furniture decorating the room besides the mattress, if that could be called furniture at all. There were four bottles.

Aziraphale didn’t buy any of it. He out an exasperated, ‘Crowley.’

‘Yes, angel?’ Crowley said, trying to be casual. He wasn’t sure whether it was convincing enough for _himself_.

‘You’re trying to avoid the subject. It’s not working. There’s something you’re not telling me, and I think we both know what it is.’

Crowley’s shoulders slumped. This was a long time coming. They’ve been friends? acquaintances? bad at being mortal enemies? for what, 5352 years now[26], and he has never, not once asked about Crowley’s life Before. But it was bound to happen someday.

He snapped his fingers and stopped time.

That was practically a dead giveaway, but in case things weren’t clear enough: he unfurled his wings. Both pairs; the first ruffled from disuse and too large to fit into the room. Emerald, indigo, and silver were scattered on coal like stars, and oh so different from his plain bottom pair. He must’ve got it for sure now.

Aziraphale didn’t say anything. His mouth formed a perfect O and stayed like that. Yeah. He recognised those wings[27].

Crowley couldn’t help the bitter chuckle that escaped his lips. ‘Didn’t see this one coming, did you?’

‘Crowley, you’re—you were—’ Aziraphale couldn’t find words. His eyes were glued to those colourful feathers. Crowley felt oddly naked and uncomfortable and really didn’t want him to _say it_. But he did. ‘Raphael.’

He gulped and pursed his lips together. His nod was sharp. And he said, ‘Please don’t call me that. No one knows. No one can know. Promise me.’ He took his sunglasses off and looked him in the eye. His scleras didn’t show a bit of white. ‘ _Promise me_ , Aziraphale.’

‘Yes. Yes, I promise. _Crowley_.’

‘‘Kay. Great.’ He hid his wings back where they came from and restarted the flow of time. ‘Let’s get these kids out now. They can’t stay here. And not a word about _any of this_.’

He made a roundabout gesture with the sunglasses and then put them back on.

‘You know me, I’ll be silent as a grave!’ Aziraphale giggled. Crowley rolled his eyes, which the angel couldn’t see, and stood up. ‘But why didn’t you tell me? You were an Archangel—we met! In Heaven! I thought we were—’

Aziraphale swallowed the word. _Friends_.

‘I met _everyone_ ,’ he pointed out. ‘And I don’t want to talk about it, friends or not, d’you understand? And seriously, give me a hand here. ‘M exhausted.’

Aziraphale cleaned everyone’s clothes with a thought and lifted the boy in his arms. He was sleeping, and looking healthier with every passing second.

Crowley lifted the two girls on his hip. To them, he whispered, ‘You’re going to be all right now. Your brother, too. If he’s your brother. Either way, you’ll live, and you’ll tell stories of miracles to your children one day, far away from here.’

‘Did you save us? Are you angel?’ asked the older girl.

‘No, I’m not,’ Crowley laughed. He looked at Aziraphale. He was beaming. ‘But close enough.’

They got properly plastered on all that wine later. Lounging on top of the chest of drawers and having something of a Philosophical Moment, Crowley proposed an Arrangement between them again; blessings for temptations and temptations for blessings when they’re in the same area.

This time, and somewhat drunkenly, Aziraphale agreed. They drank some more to that, and Crowley nearly choked when Aziraphale gave him a satanblessed _wink_ as he passed the bottle.

* * *

1 Before Earth, Crawly’s post had been in Helvetios Department. That was a star with a single exoplanet situated in the Pegasus constellation. He liked that department, as much as you could like something in Hell. There was never too much work, and his boss was too lazy to check the paperwork most of the time. And the real higher-ups, such as Beelzebub zirself, never visited.[✿]

2 Heaven and Hell both lay in their own plane of existence. It was where the wings went. That did _not_ mean an angel or demon could get there from wherever they found themselves. No, they still had to go back to their assigned planet or star system. Not because it was impossible to do it otherwise, but because there were Rules.[✿]

3 That would be created two days later and put in the Upper Management building for the lack of space or will to build anything new—apart from a lobby with an exit for each continent, which would require a deal between the Sides and collective architectural effort, and result in connecting Heaven and Hell for convenience’s sake.[✿]

4 Look. He got over it. Holding a grudge against ignorant sibling-adjacent beings who weren’t even to blame for much of anything got boring after half a billion years, really.

That being said, none of this applied to his Actual Archangelic Siblings, who could fuck right off. Not for casting a whole third of Heaven out; they acted on God’s orders. For abandoning their loved ones like the cowards they really were and never showing even a _bit_ of regret or empathy.[✿]

5 You would be surprised what all you could find somewhere in the Universe. Apples, and apple pies, were not indigenous to Earth.[✿]

6 It wasn’t written in English. In fact, not a single word or thought uttered in this chapter was in English, as the language didn’t exist yet, but we translated it for clearer comprehension.[✿]

7 Otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to slip inside under the guards’ watch, obviously. Not everyone could transform into a small creature. Heaven was _huge_ and no one knew _everyone_ , so a person with an angelic aura wearing white clothes was nothing out of the ordinary. Angels visited all the time.[✿]

8 He meant this literally, seeing as there wasn’t such a thing as Vine, or Internet, or more than two humans yet. There were, however, some salad-appropriate vegetables growing just to the right of the Tree.[✿]

9 Lucifer knew this because Amenadiel told him. God would never lower Himself—again, Lucifer had no idea about the Pronoun Change yet—enough to talk to him personally, would He? Bloody typical. That didn’t mean he couldn’t have some fun with it…

Not that what She had told Amenadiel was strictly true, either. The part about compotes might be accurate, but the truth was that She _could_ and _would_ spare an apple or four. The Tree was _full_ of them.[✿]

10 The exact translation would be more something on the lines of “long creature”, but “noodle” was one of the meanings of the adjective as well, and it sounded funnier.[✿]

11 His gut feeling was correct.[✿]

12 _Lilith_. Eve was still bitter about her, about coming _second_. She had a distant feeling that Adam was still in love with her, which he more or less proved true earlier when she told him, and he immediately took offence at the thought. She wasn’t in this world for long, but sometimes she wished there were more other people around.[✿]

13 Of course, we guess we don’t have to tell you this, but just in case: it was _playing into_ Her plans.[✿]

14 Made from his own feather because he was lazy.[✿]

15 It was the exact same desk two inches to the left. The only difference was the lack of weird stains, which will surely appear within a few years and make it unrecognisable from the first one. Oh well.[✿]

16 Though, to a celestial being, the difference between one day and one year pretty much equalled the difference between a millisecond and a second to a human, so it might as well have _been_ yesterday.[✿]

17 Again, Hell wasn’t so much under the Earth as next to it, but a ground entrance or escape proved to be the most efficient. Also, demons loved to be dramatic.[✿]

18 And liked a little too much, perhaps. He seemed vaguely familiar, too, and different from the others. He really wanted to chat with him again. He shielded him from the rain with his wing for Satan’s sake! Him, a demon![✿]

19 And also his gender, sometime in 4002. It was very liberating, feeling all the shapes of a familiar body she had left behind a good billion years ago, and the thrill of the possibility of being discovered by either party made it all the more exciting.[✿]

20 After a few punches, they decided to go sit in a tavern and talk things out civilly. It was all one big, impossible clusterfuck, and no one knew what to do and what to tell the Head Offices, so really, they had no other choice. And though they wouldn’t admit it, it was the step they both needed to start patching aeon-old wounds up.[✿]

21 Officially since 305 AD, unofficially since two hundred years back. The Middle East was full of painful memories, and so was North Africa; he _really_ didn’t want to go back to Australia; the Americas and the Far East already had their agents. So he hung around the Roman Empire and eventually got the long-term job.[✿]

22 It wouldn’t. In a hundred years, humans will have invented the Spanish Inquisition, and he will have got a commendation for it, and—you know the story.[✿]

23 Not that Hell had a pleasant side.[✿]

24 The answer was Aziraphale having read about this in the _Celestial Observer_ and thinking he must _do something_. Why in Florence, though, he wasn’t sure himself. He thought it sounded like a nice starting point, and it’s been a while since he’s been in Tuscany, so why not? They had great wine.

The answer to _that_ was, of course, his Mother being a mother and sending the thought his way.[✿]

25 Yes, Crowley had saved some children from drowning. He was defying God in a true rebellious, demonic fashion by doing so. Not a speck of selflessness was involved. Just ask anyone; they will confirm.[✿]

26 He definitely didn’t count that. Nope. He was extremely good at doing maths in his head, okay?[✿]

27 If Aziraphale reached as far as the celestial plain, he would see his true Cherubic form at that moment, too. But he didn’t know he would, and frankly, Crowley was relieved. That would reach a level of intimacy he wasn’t ready to even _think about_ at this point.[✿]


	18. in which lucifer begins to finalise his plan

Another two weeks have passed in the miserable-going-on-merely-unpleasant dimension of Hell, and Lucifer deemed his Plan ready to commence the final stage. After a quiet deliberation with the painting on the wall[1]. With a Bloody Mary or three.

Yeah, he still wasn’t sure about things; congrats on noticing!

Nevertheless, his Kingdom has come to a unanimous conclusion that they were better off under him after all because he was the only one who ever tried to _do_ something about any sort of situation, and look, they had let him take the Throne all those years ago for a _reason_.

They were all starting to forget just _why_ they had revolted[2], too.

Not to mention, he has promised his humans that he’d be back at the beginning of July for a group holiday in Malibu, and who was he if not the Devil of his word, even if the idea of spending a week in one house with Amenadiel and Ella and everyone else[3] didn’t exactly fall under his definition of a great time? Promises were meant to be kept. And Chloe was waiting.

Two weeks without further serious glitches weren’t enough to prove anything. Not on the celestial scale. He knew this. But it was 28 June already, and they, being American and caring about their country’s holidays, were expecting him on the Fourth of July.

So he gave himself those six days to close things up and give returning to Earth in a hopefully more permanent manner a try.

Just like the last time, he ordered everyone to gather in the auditorium and hear out an Announcement. It was broadcast throughout the entire Earth Department, and the newspaper editor has already requested an article.

Oh, he’ll give them front-page material.

Coincidentally, it was also Friday, so practically all of ED-based demonkind found themselves disgruntled at the lack of _Supernatural_ Season 13[4], but one could never please everyone. Especially not Down Here. Putting bean bags in that room has been enough of a Benevolent Gesture, thank you very much.

Passing through the mass of demons crowding the place, Lucifer noticed one of the Disposable Triplets—as they were often called—carrying an actual, functioning tablet. That was Highly Unusual, but also Very Useful.

‘Film the whole thing for archiving,’ he said, and mentally ordered the device to stay charged. Not that this was going to be a lengthy event.

The demon mumbled a ‘Yes, Lord.’

Lucifer didn’t look at him twice and finally climbed up onto the dais. In the front row, he spotted Beelzebub and Belial, lounging in green bean bags. He gestured at them. ‘You two, come up here.’

Thanks to zir height and the bag’s quickly-acquired shabbiness, Beelzebub had some trouble getting up, and it was sort of hilarious, but no one dared comment on it when ze levelled them with the sternest stare Hell had to offer and fixed zir—dark blue, fitted, most certainly _new_ —jacket.

Belial turtlishly crawled onto the dais right after zir and stood on Lucifer’s left side.

The Devil cleared his throat.

‘Dear demonkind,’ he said. His voice dripped with false sweetness that served no other purpose than to irritate. ‘I am _very_ grateful for your continuous support, as proven by the questionnaires handed out last week. I really do appreciate that you’ve come to see my vision and got on board with all the changes[5]; I know how _hard_ it must have been for creatures of habit such as yourselves.

‘Now that we settled our differences and are on the same page here, I would like to announce that I will be retreating to Los Angeles once again and running Hell remotely.’

A wave of shouts and whispers arose from the crowd. He frankly didn’t know if it was a good or bad sign.

Beelzebub craned zir neck towards him. ‘Lord, you did not inform uzz—’

Lucifer peeled his eyes off of the shouting demons and turned to zir for a second. ‘I’m informing you _now_ ,’ he told zir with the same smug and somewhat annoying smile. Then he raised his voice and continued his totally improvised speech. ‘I’ll be departing in six days, and from then on, Beelzebub will take my place, together with Turtleman[6] here. You know the drill; nothing new under the sun.’

A dragonfly joined Beelzebub’s flies and buzzed loudly around zir head. Again, Lucifer didn’t know what to think about that, but he imagined it meant ze was pleased. Belial straightened his posture and puffed up importantly.

Lucifer took a breath of stale air. ‘ _But_ to ensure your ongoing obedience and order, I _will_ be popping Down Here for monthly inspections and be in touch with the Princes here _constantly_.’

At that, he took his smartphone out of his jacket’s pocket and waved it in the air.

Oh, he loved the group chat things, and FaceTime, and all the modern technologies, truly. He had to install the functional Wi-Fi in the Council Chamber, sure enough, but he’d put a password on it so no one but the Princes and him could connect, and that was that. Easy.

He pocketed the mobile and went on to deliver the final lines. ‘So please, try and use your brains a little, and avoid causing any trouble that would earn you a Holy bath even in my absence, will you? That would just be making it difficult for everyone, and we don’t need that sort of behaviour around here. We’re trying to be _respectable_ demons, for Elvis’ sake, proper representatives of our species[7]!

‘But in case you remain as stubbornly stupid as ever, I will be installing wards around the Throne, my office, the Council Chamber, and also the Lift and the Earth Doors. Whoever tries to walk through them without an official permit,’ he raised his index finger and paused dramatically, ‘will be discorporated on the spot and not issued a body for a hundred years. As for the protection around Hell—well, you can try and see. It won’t be pleasant.’

Lucifer chuckled at that. They will be fried like fish in London’s most prolific chippy[8]. If he does the spell right, anyway. He was a little rusty at this sort of occult magic, arcane sigils and the like.

‘That is all for today. I won’t be taking questions or suggestions. I’ll be needing B&B here for a bit longer; the rest of you, enjoy movie night. You’ll _love_ the ending[9].’

He descended the stairs of the dais to give way to the TV series everyone was quite impatiently waiting for and exited the auditorium, followed by the two Princes. He headed straight for his office.

Once the door closed behind them, Lucifer strode over to his desk and opened the Small Office Knickknack drawer. Among a plethora of useless thingamajigs and the futuristic flash drive lay a mobile phone similar to his own, if a bit older. An LG. He picked it up and shoved it in front of Beelzebub’s face.

Ze stared at the device first, then at Lucifer. ‘What izz this?’

‘Can’t properly communicate with me with that old Nokia, can you? That fossil doesn’t even connect to the internet,’ Lucifer scoffed. ‘It’s a 2010 model, should stay as is even in Hell’s conditions. Ask Gabriel if you don’t know how to use it.’

The grin colouring his face was devilish, and true to its name.

‘I won’t ask that wanker how to use a phone; I’m a _Prince_ [10],’ ze said, and took it from him. Ze used it to point at Belial, who was staring. ‘Why doezzn’t he get one?’

‘I need to be in touch with only one of you,’ said Lucifer, and patted Belial’s shoulder.

He wanted to add _no offence_ , but really, it was _full offence_. Belial was the only Prince besides Beelzebub who wasn’t completely bonkers, as he has recently come to learn, and having his loyalty and occasionally sound advice on your side proved useful in the long run, but he was still too slow sometimes and definitely not fit to rule on his own. Turtle and all.

Seeing an urge to tear Lucifer’s arm off in the demon’s eyes, he took a step back. ‘And I don’t have more of these, anyway.’

‘I don’t care,’ Belial grumbled. He carried on staring. ‘But we didn’t talk about a shared mandate.’

‘Or any of thizz at all.’

Lucifer was aware, yes. He sat down at his desk, which bore ancient books and tomes on protective magic: light reading for later. He crossed his legs and braced his hands on the armrests.

‘I’m sure we can agree it’s a reasonable arrangement,’ he said, voice like honey. ‘Remember when we first invented democracy?’

They nodded[11].

‘There is honestly no potential in dictatorship. No _creativity_. All dictators ever do is end up here after someone murders them.’

He addressed Beelzebub. ‘Look what they did to you when you tried to rule on your own—they threw you in the basement! And for what, being _right_?’ He shook his head. ‘They can’t overthrow you— _us_ —like this. Also, it sort of prevents idiocy when one needs to discuss things first.’

That was the most important bit, really.

‘Fine. I agree.’ Beelzebub folded zir arms, still holding the mobile. ‘But what I don’t get izz, why is that human woman more important than any of thizz, your glorious Kingdom? Why are you _leaving us again_?’

‘Ze’s got a point,’ Belial said. ‘You’ve got everything here. You’ve won your loyalty again. Humans are pointless.’

‘That’s not true.’ Lucifer’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the chair. He gritted his teeth and slowly stood up. ‘I don’t have everything. I rule over chaos and put _all of my power_ into stabilising it. I lock myself in this office daily because I still can’t trust anyone. I can’t have anything I want. I don’t have friends and vintage cars and good alcohol and Armani suits, and I don’t have _her_. Being the Devil is the loneliest job in the Universe.’

The demons blinked at him like befuddled owls and didn’t say anything. They didn’t know _what_ to say. Maybe because they were stunned, maybe because they were afraid. Either would do.

Lucifer exhaled. ‘That’s what’s wonderful about humans—they always live to the fullest, and they’re never alone. They’re curious and funny and so _weird_ it’s fascinating. Good at sex, too. Good at love. And they proved me _wrong_ [12].’

His wings popped into the material plane without consulting him first. The demons flinched. He barely stopped himself from doing so as well. But he had to be the authority here. Letting them know he was uncomfortable with it didn’t exactly spell a good example.

‘That’s what I’m trying to teach you here, the biggest lesson of them all. You’ll see after a decade of sitting on the Chair.’ He turned his head to look at the single chair behind him, and back. ‘I’m gonna have to add one, I suppose.’

He snorted, because the absence of a second Throne was about the _least_ important thing right now. There were some fancy new chairs everywhere these days. But it all sort of crumbled on top of him, the emotions and half-cooked ideas, and the ridiculous sentence did him in.

He had to compose himself, and quick.

His gaze bore into Beelzebub’s blue eyes. ‘Love is worth _everything_. I have no idea what you still see in that idiot brother of mine[13], but whatever it is, hold onto that. You’re lucky you have eternity to figure it out. I don’t. So, I’d _really_ like to go and spend whatever time I do have with Chloe Decker.’

There were _no_ tears forming in his eyes. _None_. Satan didn’t cry. He was composing himself.

Except he wasn’t.

‘Shoo now, get lost,’ he said, gesticulating at the pair.

Belial fled from the office, rightfully terrified of what Lucifer might do to him if he didn’t. Beelzebub stepped over to the desk. A death’s-head moth landed on it. Only now, Lucifer noticed it was smouldering. He put out the fire with a shaky thought.

‘I’m—’ Beelzebub swallowed the sentence. Ze stared at the moth, uncomfortable with being honest. It was a dangerous trait to cultivate around Hell, that. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Yeah, well,’ Lucifer shook his head. ‘Aren’t we a pair.’

‘He almost Fell. And all that came after made him a bit of a bastard. I like that about him.’ Beelzebub bit zir lip and turned to leave. Looking at the door, ze added, ‘And he’zz really _bad_ in bed[14].’

Lucifer groaned. ‘Now I’ll never get _that_ image out of my head, thank you ever so much!’

Beelzebub grinned and slammed the door shut.

Lucifer wasn’t lying. He needed a distraction, _fast_ , because he’d rather not think about that for too long. The reports had been enough.

But it also lifted his mood somewhat, and he wondered how much of it was on purpose.

He frowned his wings into disappearing and sat down. He could pick up a book and try to remember what exactly the wards on his Iron Throne had entailed back in the day. He didn’t. He fished his mobile out of his pocket again and texted Chloe about the progressing situation.

It was late morning in LA, he guessed, and he knew she had a case. It was unlikely she’d pick up if he called or ever read the texts immediately, but that didn’t matter. He _could_ occasionally be a man of patience.

•

good news, darling, I figured most  
things out and it looks like I’ll make  
it to malibu in time

if someone somehow doesn’t cock  
things up until then, anyway

how’s the case going? well I hope?

give the small human my regards,  
and see u in 6 days 😊

•

He guessed correctly about the time. He, however, omitted to realise that as today was 28 June, it was also Beatrice’s last day of school. They had finished early, and she had begged Amenadiel[15] to take her to Mummy’s work first to show off her report card.

Trixie was currently sitting at Chloe’s desk, colouring some statistic charts and swinging her legs about. She heard a phone beep four times as messages arrived, and checked to see if it was Important or if she should Let It Go. It was Lucifer. Important. It also piqued her curiosity. Knowing the password to her mum’s phone, she unlocked it and checked.

She knew there might be trouble for that. It was very low on her list of priorities, though. Especially when there was good news!

• 

hi Lucifer!!! this is Trixie

mommy’s interrogating a guy with  
daddy right now but I’ll let her  
know!

wanna see my report card? I had a  
c in math but other than that mrs.  
jones said I was really amazing and  
talented and stuff!!!

[ _image_ ]

that’s very good, child,  
congratulations

I’m gonna go tell Adam too

see u in 6 days 😄😄😄😄

can’t wait.

• 

He was being sarcastic here. Obviously. But it was true that he couldn’t wait to get the hell out of Hell. But for that—he needed to get through these books. And call B&B back at some point, because he didn’t even get to the point he needed to discuss, _bless_ those idiots with their stupid questions.

And maybe implement report cards and call them Employee Evaluation Documents. He’s already heeded Adam’s advice with boxing bags and a gym, which so far led to 8% fewer cases of discorporation and random street fights and bar brawls, and was overall just below the showers in success rate. Human children—they weren’t all that useless at all.

Oh, he’s got an _excellent_ idea, hasn’t he?

Workplace inspections and Employee of the Month, they had that. It was always Dagon anyway. But if each demon was objectively evaluated and got the paperwork back[16], they would know which skill they needed to improve and which skill they excelled at, and in a year or five, the Upper Management could base their assignment system on ability rather than chaotic randomness, and Hell could run on maximum efficiency. Even Heaven would be jealous.

Sometimes, Lucifer really loved his mind.

He sent a text directly to Trixie: _actually, you’ll get two cakes and $200 once I’m back cos that report card really inspired me, thank you_. She sent back a row of excited emojis. What else, too.

Lucifer opened the memo app and wrote the idea down, at the bottom of a list of tick-boxes.

  * ~~new walls & wall decorations~~
  * ~~more plants (look up what can live in darkness)~~
  * ~~better inspirational quotes but NO COMIC SANS~~
  * ~~print ↑ urself~~
  * ~~check if comps. are working + electronic database~~
  * promote someone to dantalion’s post
  * ~~try the future hologram usb~~
  * ~~bean bags~~
  * a cheesecake factory
  * ~~adam’s gym thing, maybe look at the bikes too~~
  * replace horses w bikes? motorbikes? (would require proper roads → 100-year plan) ~~~~
  * ~~give beelz a normal phone, bin nokia~~
  * ~~wifi for council chamber~~
  * ~~~~~~MUSIC. make radios play stuff in hallways. improve lift music~~
  * ~~get list of musicians currently in hell and organise more concerts~~
  * idea: treat hell like a business → read some books on it, take insp. @ lux, ask earth-bound demons, council biweekly w emailed reports (skype?)
  * announcement on ↑
  * WARDS ~~~~
  * ~~get books from library~~
  * next tv show: b99 ~~~~
  * get shit done till 4/7 & pack for holiday
  * reports for demons (yearly?)



He will call for a Council meeting and present his ideas tomorrow. Right now, he needed some time to think, enough willpower to start on the dusty books, and something to drink, not necessarily in that order.

In fact, the drink was the easiest to obtain. He locked his mobile and remembering the Bloody Marys he’s had one too many of, he found some sparkling mineral water and downed a half of the bottle[17]. It really washed his insides and calmed his mind.

If there ever were tears, he forgot all about them.

* * *

1 It didn’t respond. It was a painting.[✿]

2 This was typical behaviour if you asked, well, _anyone_. Revolts happened all the time. Demons mostly joined for the sheer kick of it and didn’t particularly care for the ideologies. It was the same with the war that should have been. They would only fight because someone said so, and because it sounded better than another day behind the desk, torture instrument, or what have you.[✿]

3 No, not a hotel. A house. There were two enormous villas in the particular area, one of which belonged to Bruce Wayne. Normally, he would simply offer it to Lucifer, but seeing as it was going to be occupied by _his_ family and friends already—it was all deliberate, mind, it was a _group_ holiday—that wasn’t happening.

However, his cousin Kate did text this: _we talked to Mrs. Device, our neighbor about a mile off, and she’s willing to take some people in too if they cook for themselves and don’t make a mess of the huge old library she owns_.[✿]

4 Which was about a certain son of Lucifer and coming to power and rejecting his heritage and choosing to be good. Would you look at that.

Speaking of: some of the humans did and recommended Linda to watch it for useful information on Nephilim children some time ago. It was hardly authentic, but it did put some things into perspective.[✿]

5 This could mostly be attributed to this argument, uttered by Belial at the last Council meeting: “D’you want to keep living in grime and disorder, or d’you want to show Heaven who’s best even without a war?”[✿]

6 Belial _hated it_ when Lucifer called him that. No wonder he never got any respect from anyone, or any cults, or anything, when Satan called him _Turtleman_. Yes, he was a turtle, and yes, he was slow, but that didn’t mean he was to be _mocked_. But this was The Boss, so he couldn’t really say anything. It was a lose-lose situation.[✿]

7 Never mind that he wasn’t a demon. He was trying to be relatable here; Crowley had said it would help.[✿]

8 Translation: fish & chip shop. Like the place where they sell fish with what the _British_ call chips and the _American_ call French fries even though they come from Belgium, which a bunch of American soldiers who discovered them and then brought them home didn’t know, because they didn’t know geography and thought they were in France.[✿]

9 Yes, he has seen _SPN_ before. Yes, he did enjoy the last episode with God revealing what a manipulative prick he was, making all the awful things happen just because He wanted them to. It was Hilariously Accurate.[✿]

10 Ze will find the manual on zir new laptop and learn it zirself, thank you very much.[✿]

11 Ancient Greece had been the most prosperous era for all demons, giving humans all sorts of ideas, and confusing their brains with maths and physics and absolutely wrong truths about the universe being glorified and the right ones being called blasphemous. Crowley had done most of that, but the Princes hadn’t stayed far behind.[✿]

12 Wrong about all those things he’d said a billion years ago, still in Heaven. He got it now. He got it, but it was too late, and he sure as Hell wasn’t going to admit that to God or, pray tell, _apologise_. He was still too stubborn and constipated for that.[✿]

13 Actually he had _an_ idea. He had read the reports about their little dates, or whatever they were, just for the Hell of it, and bent over laughing numerous times when it came to Beelzebub’s mostly monotonous descriptions of what they were doing.[✿]

14 _Bad_ , in this case, meant _good_ in case you’re not fluent in Demon Vocabulary. It did get confusing sometimes, because most words that meant either “bad” or “good” had exactly two opposing meanings, and both could mean the same thing. The “bad” word, however, meant that it was _better_ for a demon. Or should we say _worse_? An insult was a compliment, after all.[✿]

15 Linda and he were on babysitting duty because Maze was on a bounty and both parents were working that day. He had gone to pick her up from school.[✿]

16 The standard procedure entailed putting it directly into the Archives, where no one would look at it again. But with the recent establishment of e-mail communication, anything was possible.[✿]

17 Plastic, easily deformed, never reusable. The only kind of water bottles you could find in Hell. Not that anyone drank much water. That was for angels and humans. Demons preferred alcohol, pickle juice, sour milk, or the bad, bitter coffee.[✿]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this even good anymore? does it make sense? i honestly can't tell 
> 
> _please tell me what you think!!!_


	19. in which the story moves overseas

About a week after the Apocalypse-That-Wasn’t, Anathema had suggested to Newt that he should write down a bucket list of things he’s never done before. He had thought it was an excellent idea, and proceeded to fill both sides of an A4.

Some things— _I’ve never eaten Thai food_ —were trivial enough to manage between daily commuting and writing assignments. She picked up some Pad Thai from a takeaway place on her way from Oxford, tofu for herself and pork for Newt, and that was that. He liked Thai food, and Anathema pinned a few recipes to her cooking Pinterest board.

Some were not.

Nevertheless, they slowly began crossing things off. And today was I’ve Never Flown on a Plane Day.

Or perhaps I’ve Never Been Abroad Day, Mark Two as well. That item had originally fallen victim to a long train ride to Paris at Christmastime, but the United States was much further than France, was it not?

Anathema and Newt were currently waiting at their gate at Heathrow, and they were going _home_ [1].

That said—Newt wasn’t particularly overjoyed by the notion of sitting on a plane for eleven hours and then some, despite their tickets being first-class and Anathema’s continuous reassurance that she won’t mind it if he takes sleeping pills and doesn’t pay her any attention. 

She had a novel she’s been saving, anyway.

He gulped down the remainders of his overpriced airport M&S-acquired sandwich and said, for the third time in an hour, ‘I don’t think I’ll like planes. What if—oh dear, what if we crash above the Atlantic?’

‘I cast some basic protective spells[2] over us,’ she said, clutching the boarding passes and passports. ‘The plane won’t crash. And even if it _does_ , Adam would know. He’d save us.’

Because she was ready to text him, or Crowley, if things really went wrong. His powers didn’t reach so far; not anymore. But Newt didn’t need to know that. And anyway, _the plane won’t fall._ That didn’t just happen. Those were all government conspiracies, falling planes.

‘Right. That makes me feel instantly better.’ Newt got up to bin the sandwich wrapper. It was only five steps away. He looked at her. ‘No, but it does, actually.’

Anathema smiled, remembering the afternoon in the car, right before the End of the World didn’t happen.

The gate finally opened and called the first-class passengers forward for priority check-in, calmly enraging the others waiting in a seemingly endless queue. She handed the documents over for checking and off they went, through the jet bridge and to their seats.

Newt marvelled at how spacious everything was. And that each seat was in a separate booth[3].

‘This is first class, sweetheart.’ Anathema sat down and arranged a pillow behind her head. ‘Welcome to the premium life, full of pollution, carbon dioxide, and excess plastic everywhere. But we don’t have wings, so plane it is. Might as well be less uncomfortable.’

Newt dropped into his seat, on the other side of a plastic barrier that was separating them. Anathema didn’t see this, but he flung his messenger bag beneath his feet and went on exploring. There was a movie screen, a table, a full-on cupboard for placing small things, and enough space to stretch one’s feet.

It was home for the next twelve hours.

He leant over the barrier and whispered, ‘Can’t angels and demons teleport?’

Anathema put on her reading glasses. ‘Yes, but we wouldn’t want to bother them with this, would we?’

‘No,’ he agreed, possibly wishing they _would_. He glanced around uneasily. A wealthy-looking, tanned businessman took the seat in front of him. ‘But I still wish we kept this item on the list for a little longer. A few years, maybe.’

‘I thought you _wanted_ to meet my mother and, quote-unquote, “have a bit of an adventurous summer after we’ve literally stopped Armageddon”.’ She cupped his cheek and gave him a quick kiss. ‘Just try and relax, Newt.’

He gave her somewhat uncertain thumbs-up. Then a stewardess’ mechanical voice reminded the passengers to fasten their seatbelts and apologised for a slight delay caused by the general state of Heathrow being a big airport and therefore despatching too many planes at once[4]. And also the weather.

Anathema fished her novel out of her handbag and did so. The plane rolled onto the runway twenty minutes later, and Newt put on a panicked look, but she didn’t see that either. She was already immersed in the book[5].

Five bathroom runs, three snack orders, and a finished story later, they landed in Los Angeles. They had taken off shortly before 12 p.m. and flown for nearly 12 hours, but it was only 3:31 p.m. in LA. Time zones were, as a rule, confusing as Hell[6].

At least their phones adjusted to the change all by themselves and didn’t bewilder anyone even further. 

The first thing Anathema said when they got off the plane was, ‘Last year we faced the Devil on that air base, and now we’re in his city. _Huh_.’

‘Good thing he isn’t here now[7], eh?’ Newt laughed, too tired for any other sort of reaction. He hadn’t been able to sleep but had desperately wanted to. 

He knew, because Crowley and Aziraphale had told them both, the last time they visited. About the Devil living in LA. They had mentioned his unwillingness to partake in the Apocalypse, too, but Anathema still found it hard to believe that. She had spent years upon years learning about things in the Book, and all this time, the Beast had been living practically in her backyard… running a _nightclub_ and not being Beasty at all. Wasn’t that just _too_ far-fetched, even for them?

‘Yeah.’ She took his hand, nudged his side, and said, ‘You survived.’

And only threw up _once_.

‘I can’t believe that either,’ Newt croaked. ‘The landing—it was like being in a lift, but _worse_. And you know how uncomfortable lifts make me.’

‘ _Elevators_ ,’ said Anathema with a playful smirk on her lips. ‘Welcome to America.’

• 

María Device was waiting by the glass doors. Anathema saw her as soon as the car[8] stopped in the woody driveway: always radiant, never putting down her former-dancer elegance. Oh, it’s been almost a _year_ since she last saw her mother outside a Skype call.

She didn’t wait for the driver to open the door and stepped out of the Prius.

‘Hola, mi amor,’ María called, taking in her emerald sundress—previously hidden under a fluffy jumper, a necessary accessory on an air-conditioned plane—and her boyfriend, who was only just getting out of the car.

‘Hola, mamá. ¿Cómo estás?’

Anathema hugged her and kissed her cheeks. The driver took their suitcases out of the boot and laid them onto perfectly clean, white gravel. Then he carried them inside. Newt hovered by the car and shouted a _thank you_ at him.

‘Bien, gracias. ¿Cómo estuvo tu vuelo?[9]’

‘Eh, you know. Long.’ Anathema tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ears. She cleared her throat, and turned to aforementioned boyfriend and back. ‘Mum, this is Newt Pulsifer; though I don’t think I need to introduce you.’

They’ve talked over Skype. And there was also Agnes Nutter’s Book, of course.

Newt stepped forward and shook María’s hand while she, also needlessly, introduced herself. He said, ‘It’s nice to finally meet you. And I’m sorry for any inconvenience my family have caused you, honestly. I swear there will be no more burning!’

He pumped an enthusiastic fist in the air and laughed nervously. Anathema thought she couldn’t have found a more perfect man. And—well, he _has_ been destined for her, hasn’t he? It was almost as if soulmates were a real thing[10].

‘Apart from food,’ he added. María raised a subtle eyebrow. ‘I can’t cook. Er. That was a bad joke, I know.’

‘It’s all right, dear. And none of it is your fault. We don’t choose our family.’

In the Devices’ case, that applied tenfold. 

María led them both inside the residence. It was like stepping into the dairy section at the supermarket on an especially hot and sweaty day: the most welcome feeling in the Universe. And these days have been extraordinarily scorching, here and all over Europe alike. Temperature records were breaking. England was bloody hot—and neither of them was taking it well[11].

So really, the dry kind of Californian heat was—impossibly enough—an _improvement_.

(Newt had laughed when she had told him bringing an umbrella was a waste of suitcase space.)

‘Do you want fresh lemonade?’ she asked when they arrived in the minimalistic kitchen[12]. She went and took three tall glasses anyway. ‘Sit down. Oh, you must tell me everything! Are you hungry?’

‘Mum, we’ll be here for a _month_ ,’ Anathema said, slumping into her chair. It was the jet-lag.

A part of her mind that was still mostly conscious told her the sentence was all wrong. Compared to the 21 years she had spent in the house, a month was _nothing_. This was Home, this was where she has grown up, and yet—and yet. When did she start thinking of Tadfield and Newt and Oxford University as Home?

Newt took the chair next to her. It scraped against concrete floor. He said, ‘Frankly, I _am_ a bit hungry. I only had three sandwiches and some crisps on the plane. And I threw up.’

María brought a jug of lemonade and the glasses over to the table. She started pouring the drink, together with pieces of lemons and cucumbers. ‘You’re awfully skinny, too. You should really eat more.’

‘I’ve been telling him too! He’s all _bones_.’

‘It’s not my fault I’ve never been able to gain weight, ever.’

‘Well, I have some vegetarian chilli. I made it just for you.’ She passed Newt his glass. ‘It’s Thema’s favourite.’

‘ _Mmhhm_ , thank you, mamá.’ She could never replicate her recipe quite perfectly, no matter how many times she tried. And she considered herself a good cook. ‘Can’t wait.’

‘Perfect. Why don’t you go down to the beach after you eat, relax a little, and tell me all the stories later? You were right, dear, we have plenty of time to catch up.’

Anathema took her lemonade and took a sip. She turned to Newt, who was grimacing at the lack of sugar in it, and asked, ‘What do you say, Newt, you ready to get a taste of real ocean that will make Brighton[13] pale in comparison?’

‘Oh yes please. But I’d rather get a taste of the chilli first.’

They laughed. Anathema pressed a smacking kiss to his temple. ‘Either way, you’re in for something amazing.’

Her mother took her glass and set it onto the counter. She put the cooker on.

Newt’s aura—and the befuddled expression he sent towards the kitchen—told Anathema he was wondering about the absence of cooking staff in such a house. She smirked and said, ‘This isn’t Wayne Manor[14], Newt. We cook for ourselves; we only employ a maid, a gardener, and a driver.’

Well, _only_ was a bit of an understatement there, but it did make him giggle and shake his head in disbelief.

Stirring the chilli, María turned to them. ‘Speaking of, I didn’t want to say this over the phone, but we’re having some guests from Thursday to next Friday.’

‘Oh?’ Anathema raised an eyebrow. The last time she checked, no people came over for a period of time longer than one dinner. But then again, she had had access to a crutch called _The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch_ the last time.

The Waynes were most likely spending the summer in their own beach residence, which stood exactly 952 metres to the left, but surely they weren’t planning on squatting in this one?

‘Some friends of Bruce’s. There isn’t enough space in their house, so I agreed to let them stay in our spare bedrooms,’ she explained, still stirring. It smelt delicious, like spices and old memories. ‘I think there was the name Morningstar?’

•

They sat on the beach and watched the sunset, the ocean lapping against bare feet. Newt sat with his hands wrapped around his knees; Anathema lay back, elbows in the wet sand. Their clothes were getting wet, too. They were beyond caring. It was just the two of them and some nosy seagulls demanding attention.

Well, she was beyond caring. Newt’s aura was slightly blue if she reached beyond and focused.

‘You were right,’ he said, looking out at the sun and the sky, full of orange hues. ‘This is… magnificent.’

‘I missed it here. I didn’t really realise that until I came to England, because it was here every day, you know?’ She looked at him. He didn’t look back. ‘I studied Agnes’s prophecies while looking out onto the ocean and then I went here to swim and that was that, every day until the Apocalypse came. That was all there was for me. But now…’

‘The world is saved, and the path is open.’

‘Wow, you’re wiser than you look.’

He gave her a crooked grin. His glasses sat askew on top of his nose. ‘I’m wise, alright. I’m like an owl with glasses. It’s just that owls aren’t good with technology.’

Anathema splashed briny water on his face, and those glasses, as a response. He spluttered. This time of the year, the Pacific wasn’t particularly warm[15]. Then he splashed back.

She should have seen it coming, being a witch and a former professional descendant. She really, _really_ should’ve seen that coming. And maybe changed into something warmer than another sundress. ‘Yeah, I deserved that.’

He used his oversized Hawaiian shirt to wipe the glasses. He asked, ‘Sooo, do you have plans for tomorrow, or are we still living for the moment as if we burnt a second prophecy book sent our way?’

‘Yeah, no. I thought we could go downtown. Maybe see a movie. And then I’ve got a list of things I wanted to do; some of them from our bucket list,’ she smiled. There were things like _I’ve never seen a musical_ or _I’ve never tried surfing_ or _I’ve never eaten shrimps_. Very accomplishable.

Though, it was probably better to steer clear of the _I’ve never robbed a bank_ one. That _would_ cross off the _I’ve never been arrested_ one, too, but they would also, you know, _be arrested_. A friendly occult or ethereal being would get them out of it, surely, but she gathered it wouldn’t be worth it.

‘Good, because honestly? I’d be terrified without an itinerary. Everything is so _big_ , so—so _much_ ,’ Newt said. ‘Did you know that the entire LA urban area is twice as populated as London? _Twice_! _As London_!’ He gesticulated wildly around himself, scaring an approaching pelican.

‘I know.’ A gust of wind sent hair flying into Anathema’s face; she tucked it away. Wet sand was covering her hands, so naturally, some of it transferred onto her face. ‘We’re definitely not visiting LA this week. It stresses me out too—so much pollution and trash and cars and, _ugh_. I like it better here.’

‘There are actual trees here,’ Newt pointed out. ‘And you don’t smell petrol in the air.’

‘Yeah. Only whiffs of fish.’

‘You’ve got—’ he gestured at his face, then at hers.

‘Right,’ she laughed, and showed him her hands. They were no less sandy than a minute ago, so she couldn’t exactly get it off. She didn’t want to wipe them on her dress or get up to wash them. ‘Can you…?’

He reached out and wiped the grains off of her cheek. His hand was warm. She said, ‘Newt?’

‘Hmm?’ He raised an eyebrow. 

‘I’ve been thinking.’

Newt blinked and visibly paled. He thought it was one of those we-need-to-talk conversations. And it—it was. It would be. If she really were going to say it. Just not exactly _that_ kind.

Still, it’s been on her mind for a week or two now.

‘Newt, why don’t we—’ No, she needed to rephrase it.

She looked directly into his eyes and tried again. Not that it was much better. ‘Agnes already suggested it. In her letter. I know I said I wanted to leave all those prophecies behind, but this is _me_ deciding. Not her. So,’ she swallowed a lump in her throat, ‘would you like to marry me?’

His jaw dropped, then closed, then dropped again.

‘I know it’s a bit out of the blue, and I don’t even have a ring, and this isn’t how it’s traditionally done but _fuck that_ is what I say—’

He kissed her.

‘Yeah, okay!’ he squeaked when he pulled away, grinning from ear to ear. ‘Let’s get married!’

* * *

1 Anathema’s home, anyway. Not to Dorking. Obviously.[✿]

2 It was more Wicca than anything, because her family’s magic lay more in reading auras and tarot cards and occasionally flipping off the light switch without touching it, but the spells were real and functional, thank you very much. The Antichrist situation was a glitch not to be mentioned again. [✿]

3 The Author is surprised about this too, because she has never seen British Airways’—yes, that’s who they are flying with—first class. Or any, for that matter. Thank Someone for Google and its ability to make people sound like they know what they’re talking about in writing.[✿]

4 Not that those were her exact words. She mentioned manoeuvring and coordination.[✿]

5 Newt didn’t hold it against her. Anathema was a bookworm by birthright; he knew what he had signed up for. He merely didn’t understand how she could do it on the _plane_ and so _easily_. Opting for asking her later, he put on a film and tried not to think about the upcoming take-off.[✿]

6 They were, however, Michael’s invention.[✿]

7 He would be in just three days. They didn’t know that. No, they will find out the hard way—or should we say, the unpredictably and rather hilariously coincidental way only God could account for?[✿]

8 It had been waiting for them at the airport: a white Prius, complete with a chauffeur and a sign with the name Device on it.[✿]

9 Translation: _How was your flight?_ [✿]

10 To be honest, she didn’t like the idea of spending the rest of her life with someone that her crazy ancestress assigned to her, at first. It felt too much like the absence of free will. But then they started talking, _really_ talking, and he stuck around Lower Tadfield, and the kids liked him, and she found out that so did she. Oh, he was clumsy sometimes, and had the weirdest car ever—haikus! honestly!—and couldn’t keep a job, but really, normal was _boring_. He appreciated her for who she was, too. They were a Witchfinder and a Witch.[✿]

11 Absolutely no one was taking it well. The English, they were used to rain and dampness and summers that reached a nice 25 degrees centigrade that allowed one to take off one’s jacket and have lunch at the park. When it got hot, people were actually _dying_. And it has constantly been above 30°C lately.[✿]

12 Crowley would _so_ envy them the execution of the place, Anathema thought. The murky emptiness of his flat—as Aziraphale had described it—couldn’t hold a candle to this kind of bright, airy minimalism.[✿]

13 Self-evidently, Newt and his mother counted among the majority of British Tourists™ who wouldn’t bother going abroad when they had a perfectly adequate holiday resort available in their country. It was cheap and everyone did it, so who cared the sea was cold. They were used to cold. And Newt had told Anathema about it on numerous occasions.[✿]

14 This could be taken in the sense of everyone in the world knowing about the Waynes and their lifestyle, or it could also be taken in the sense of the Devices and the Waynes being temporary neighbours periodically every summer—and therefore being familiar with each other the way rich families usually tended to. In a way, Bruce Wayne was Anathema’s weird uncle.[✿]

15 Should someone be interested in average ocean temperatures for July, it’s around 16°C or 60°F in Brighton and around 19°C or 66°F in Malibu, which might be colder than one would expect. The Author, who likes to Google useless things for Research, certainly had a different idea of Californian beaches.[✿]


	20. in which things come together in yet another chat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry if this isn't what you were expecting right now, but this is what you get :) more of lucifer actually interacting with chloe and everyone is to come later!
> 
> also, this is the longest chat chapter i've ever written. it's over 3k words. phew

**08/07/2019**

**awesomestCSI** _created a group_

 **awesomestCSI** _named the group_ **the devil and his prada gang**

 **awesomestCSI** _added_ **thedevil** , **thedetective** , **mazikeen** , **eve** , **amen** , **DrLinda** , **detectivedouche** , **Trixie** , **ladydeath** , **morningstarjr** , **dabestdemon** , **gayngel** , **anathema** , _and_ **newtthenewt** _to_ **the devil and his prada gang**

**thedetective:** Ella we’re in the same HOUSE

 **awesomestCSI:** isnt taht awesome????

 **awesomestCSI:** I reaaaaally missed lucifer he throww the best parties

 **anathema:** oh, she’s drunk

 **thedevil:** yep

 **dabestdemon:** what’s going on and why aren’t we invited???

 **dabestdemon:** boss how do u know anathema??

 **anathema:** crowley is that u

 **dabestdemon:** yah

 **anathema:** how does _Ella_ even know _u_ [1]

 **dabestdemon:** how do _u_ know _them_ [2]

 **thedevil:** you will LOVE this

 **thedevil:** so bruce and co. convinced us to join them on their holiday in malibu

 **thedevil:** they have a beach house here

 **awesomestCSI:** it’s fuckign HUGE

 **eve:** this one’s better :)

 **thedevil:** but despite being huge, theirs is full so we’re staying with the neighbours

 **thedevil:** guess who that is

 **anathema:** haha yeah it’s us

 **dabestdemon:** WHAT

 **gayngel:** No!

 **thedevil:** the one and only anathema device, who’s also coincidentally visiting her mum

 **thedevil:** “”coincidentally””

 **thedevil:** I didn’t recognise her at first, mind, but when she introduced herself to me your armageddon’t recollection story came rushing to my mind

 **thedevil:** isn’t that just _wonderful_

 **anathema:** ok but how do u think I felt

 **newtthenewt:** Not well

 **anathema:** that’s an understatement kjdnjsdna

 **dabestdemon:** just. noooooo

 **newtthenewt:** I mean

 **newtthenewt:** Thema is from Malibu and Lucifer lives in LA so it’s not that odd?

 **mazikeen:** no but it’s goddamn hilarious

 **thedevil:** is this a TEST 👀

 **amen:** God won’t answer, Luci

 **thedevil:** obviously..

 **ladydeath:** And don’t worry, I wasn’t invited either…

 **dabestdemon:** makes me feel so much better

 **awesomestCSI:** u can stilll come rae rae[3]

 **ladydeath:** Nah I don’t have the time, souls to deliver to the afterlife and all 😺

 **awesomestCSI:** 😢😢😢😢😢

 **morningstarjr:** hi!

 **morningstarjr:** Trixie told me about this situation a couple days ago 😀😀

 **Trixie:** yeah it’s funny 😁😁😁😁

 **morningstarjr:** and u know what I think? it was meant to happen

 **gayngel:** You think it’s… ineffable?

 **dabestdemon:** right,, of course, bloody ineffable

 **dabestdemon:** if I hear that word one more time I’m gonna stab something

 **mazikeen:** u don’t need a reason to stab smth just do it

 **gayngel:** But not my pillows[4].

 **dabestdemon:** nah I wont

 **thedevil:** well tbh, I wouldn’t put it past mother to orchestrate something like this[5]

 **morningstarjr:** I mean, why else would anathema & newt decide to go to america right now and not after Lucifer leaves

 **anathema:** huh

 **thedetective:** yeah, and we thought we were finally able to relax and leave everything behind

 **anathema:** same here

 **awesomestCSI:** but its it’s still indrebible??? us meetinf like this??

 **DrLinda:** What did you _have_

 **awesomestCSI:** yea idk im partuing it up on the beach

 **eve:** the answer is cocktailssss

 **eve:** had some too 🍸🍸😘

 **awesomestCSI:** I thought, this is so widl? tha t the girl who sttoped the acopalypse las year is HERE

 **awesomestCSI:** so I made thexx chat :)

 **dabestdemon:** forget stabbing, I think I need a drink too

 **gayngel:** That’s an excellent idea, my dear.

 **eve:** come over here this is the best beach party evah

 **dabestdemon:** but u in malibu

 **dabestdemon:** im too lazy to fly over[6]

 **thedevil:** use the main building

 **morningstarjr:** main building?

 **amen:** The building that connects Heaven, Hell and Earth - it has an entrance in both London and LA and therefore makes a shortcut.

 **morningstarjr:** oh? that’s really clever

 **amen:** I’m Amenadiel, by the way, your uncle! We haven’t met.

 **morningstarjr:** you’re charlie’s dad! hi

 **dabestdemon:** yeah we’re still not flying over

 **gayngel:** But have fun!

 **anathema:** I really love that username btw ☺️☺️😝😝🏳️‍🌈

 **gayngel:** Oh! It’s not true but I thought it was clever[7] :-)

 **awesomestCSI:** nooo not the weoird nose face

 **gayngel:** :-D

 **dabestdemon:** angel NO

 **ladydeath:** O:-)

 **dabestdemon:** ಠ_ಠ

 **awesomestCSI:** :’)

 **newtthenewt:** not true? If you look up the word gay in the dictionary his photo is under it

 **thedevil:** that’s the best description of him I’ve ever heard

 **awesomestCSI:** scknsfkjs I’m cackle ing

 **gayngel:** Angels and demons do not subject to the human concept of gender and sexuality, dear. Crowley here has actually been a woman most of their life.

 **DrLinda:** Wait, really? Lucifer never told me that! Or anyone!

 **thedetective:** another shocker™ in the life of Linda Martin

 **awesomestCSI:** not jus hers

 **dabestdemon:** as true as that is, he;s asking for it, wearing victorian clothes and doing mani pedi and being all… u know ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡ – ✧)

 **gayngel:** Says the one wearing _black_ nail polish.

 **anathema:** well-

 **eve:** can lucifer,, be a woman too

 **thedevil:** never tried it before, but theoretically yes

 **awesomestCSI:** daaaaamn

 **dabestdemon:** ok now I kinda want to see that too

 **detectivedouche:** and I’m just trying not to get involved

 **thedevil:** look at him, he’s alive!

 **detectivedouche:** ha ha

 **detectivedouche:** can someone change my username

 **awesomestCSI:** no

 **mazikeen:** I can pour u another drink

 **detectivedouche:** thx

 **anathema:** and look someone lit a bonfire!!!

 **eve:** woooooo let’s get over there

 **awesomestCSI:** cool I want marchmellons

 **amen:** Is everyone here drunk

 **Trixie:** no 😄😄

 **morningstarjr:** likewise 😄😄😄

 **morningstarjr:** besides I’m in Tadfield

 **Trixie:** isn’t it like 6 am there

 **morningstarjr:** 7

 **morningstarjr:** I got up to walk dog and I’m meeting with the them after breakfast

 **anathema:** say hi to them for me

 **gayngel:** Yes, how are they? How is your summer?

**morningstarjr** _added_ **saltand** , **brain** , _and_ **cheese** [8] _to_ **the devil and his prada gang**

**thedevil:** more children, yay

 **thedetective:** Lucifer…

 **Trixie:** hiiiiiiii

 **cheese:** You must be Adam’s American friends!

 **brain:** is it true about the ice cream??????

 **morningstarjr:** idk, is it?

 **DrLinda:** Is what true about ice cream?

 **brain:** that u have over 39 flavours of it?

 **awesomestCSI:** weird stugg too google hell ye

 **awesomestCSI:** it sa ys here thereare like 1000 flavors in? total

 **saltand:** 1000? no that can’t be right

 **brain:** no way 😮

 **thedetective:** you should come to LA then, we have _everything_ :)

 **gayngel:** Oh, but Italian gelato…

 **anathema:** hey kids?

 **saltand:** yeah

 **anathema:** when we’re back in Tadfield, we’re gonna give you so many gifts

 **brain:** ice cream???

 **morningstarjr:** Brian you can’t fly ice cream on a plane, it would melt

 **dabestdemon:** not if u miracle it to stay frozen ;)

 **thedevil:** this is below me

 **dabestdemon:** never talked abt u did I

 **awesomestCSI:** had an idea

**awesomestCSI** _changed_ **anathema’s** _name to_ **witchbitch**

**witchbitch:** Pun

 **awesomestCSI:** tihs took x a lot of efoort to type right

 **thedetective:** maybe you should stop drinking now

 **eve:** but we’re having fun!!!!!

 **mazikeen:** [ _image attached_ : thisisnthellfirebut.jpeg]

 **dabestdemon:** wait, so, let me get this straight

 **dabestdemon:** oo can’t believe I typed that

 **dabestdemon:** ur all sitting round a bonfire and texting each other

 **amen:** Linda and I are inside.

 **thedetective:** and Trixie is in bed, apparently NOT SLEEPING

 **Trixie:** sorry mommy but it’s summer so it’s ok

 **Trixie:** maze said so

 **mazikeen:** let her live decker

 **thedetective:** …

 **witchbitch:** yeah I can’t believe this either jnfdsfa @dabestdemon

 **witchbitch:** the actual devil, the head torturer of hell and Eve from bloody[9] eden are all just SITTING HERE

 **witchbitch:** and I’m sitting with the,m

 **cheese:** The devil, as in Adam’s… actual dad?

 **cheese:** I thought he was evil.

 **thedevil:** *sigh* doesn’t everybody

 **brain:** Im still processing the ice cream thing

 **saltand:** only you

 **dabestdemon:** so anyway ummm how’s hell holding up

 **thedevil:** as far as I know nothing burnt down in the last 4 days

 **dabestdemon:** and ur staying on earth permamenently now?

 **gayngel:** Crowley, that’s not a _word_.

 **dabestdemon:** im jared, 19

 **awesomestCSI:** aaaaaaaaaaksfnds

 **thedevil:** good one 😎

 **dabestdemon:** I own that emoji 😎🐍

 **gayngel:**?

 **awesomestCSI:** crowley u need tp make him atch vines

 **dabestdemon:** ive been TRYING

 **thedevil:** also yes, I’m hoping to stay more _permanently_

 **thedevil:** I might have to pop downstairs once a month or so but other than that

 **dabestdemon:** huh

 **gayngel:** How did you do it, if I may ask?

 **thedevil:** difficultly

 **thedevil:** thank charlie for b99[10] and beelz for being reasonable-ish

 **thedevil:** but speaking of, I should probably check

**thedevil** _added_ **flies all over** _and_ **purple bastard** _to_ **the devil and his prada gang**

**gayngel:** Why Gabriel???

 **thedevil:** interdepartmental relationship reinforcement

 **awesomestCSI:** i c words but :’)

 **dabestdemon:** forgive me im also drunk at this point but

 **mazikeen:** harsh words, serpent

**dabestdemon** _changed_ **purple bastard’s** _name to_ **angelicego**

 **flies all over** _changed their name to_ **lordofflies**

**lordofflies:** better

 **thedevil:** so, how’s the dreary kingdom holding up?

 **lordofflies:** officially or unofficially

 **thedevil:** _truthfully_

 **witchbitch:** are those the TWO FROM THE AIRBASE

 **angelicego:** Yes?

 **gayngel:** Unfortunately…

 **witchbitch:** I give up

 **witchbitch:** Ella shoved a drink into my hand, which, accurate

 **awesomestCSI:** [ _image attached_ : confuuuused.jpeg]

 **awesomestCSI:** hi neww peeps 👋

 **DrLinda:** Don’t mind her

 **lordofflies:** hell is hell

 **lordofflies:** it’s monday so there’s a shittonne of new post and forms, your regular complaints, two leaky taps

 **thedevil:** well fix those immediately

 **lordofflies:** already sent an underling

 **angelicego:** Yikes I feel this

 **angelicego:** That’s the new lingo, right? Right? I’ve been learning

 **thedevil:** don’t

 **dabestdemon:** ask for lesson if ur not a coward :)))

 **angelicego:** Not from you, foul fiend.

 **dabestdemon:** said the angel im in bed with

 **witchbitch:** too many details

 **awesomestCSI:** more details 👀

 **eve:** mood

 **gayngel:** Not like _that_.

 **dabestdemon:** not now anyway 😉😉

 **thedevil:** so you’ve finally got it on

 **thedevil:** _nice_

 **dabestdemon:** ummmmmm yeah let’s not tlak about it

 **DrLinda:** I’d really like to talk to you someday, so fascinating…

 **amen:** Linda, he’s not a test subject, he’s my brother.

 **amen:** Or sister, whichever it is at the moment.

 **DrLinda:** I know, but if he? they? wanted to, they could drop by the office.

 **dabestdemon:** either’s fine

 **dabestdemon:** pronouns I mean

 **dabestdemon:** and thx for the offer but idts

 **DrLinda:** Well, I’m always here in LA if you need me ☺

 **detectivedouche:** so there are more of lucifer’s siblings?? great

 **detectivedouche:** how many ARE there

 **thedevil:** give or take 2 million

 **awesomestCSI:** jaw: drppped

 **detectivedouche:** time to knock back more gin

 **amen:** But really, there are about 15 million angels and fallen

 **dabestdemon:** yea im not his sibling, only amenadiel’s and uhhhh

 **dabestdemon:** the purple twat’s

 **angelicego:** Believe me, I hate it too.

 **dabestdemon:** :)

 **angelicego:** Also, gross

 **lordofflies:** shut up or ur not getting any

 **angelicego:** K

 **thedevil:** oh he’s _whipped_

 **lordofflies:** idiot

 **dabestdemon:** did u just????

 **dabestdemon:** defend me and my angel????

 **lordofflies:** don’t get ur knickers in a twist

 **dabestdemon:** nope ill frame this and put it above teh fireplace

 **gayngel:** Please don’t.

 **eve:** lmao it just occurred to me

 **eve:** you’re ALSO right next to each other

 **dabestdemon:** gotta love how technology ruins everyone

 **dabestdemon:** that was one of mine ;)

 **awesomestCSI:** seriouy u should come over here, itll be fun!!!1

 **dabestdemon:** nah we have a beach and alcohol too it’s like we’re there anyway

 **eve:** pouts

 **dabestdemon:** no. this won’t work anymore. im not the snake I used to be

 **morningstarjr:** can we come over?

 **Trixie:** please!!!

 **saltand:** Adam, we’re not going to America, what would our parents say?

 **cheese:** It’s actually really far away, you know.

 **morningstarjr:** Lucifer said there was a shortcut

 **morningstarjr:** right

 **thedevil:** yes, all you need to do is get to London

 **thedetective:** Lucifer, those kids are what, 11? 12? they can’t just travel on their own like this!

 **witchbitch:** ^^

 **saltand:** exactly!

 **morningstarjr:** ok but I could

 **morningstarjr:** I could visit Trixie and, and Anathema and Newt! and even Lucifer I guess

 **Trixie:** pleeeeeease come here and bring dog

 **thedevil:** you’d

 **thedevil:** want to?

 **morningstarjr:** well not specifically but you’re there anyway and I guess I wouldn’t mind that

 **DrLinda:** If I can say something?

 **DrLinda:** Looking past the traveling problems, I think it would be good for you to meet. You should talk it out, get closure and _explain_ to each other why you feel the way you feel about each other’s existence. Even if you never meet again.

 **thedevil:** I-

 **dabestdemon:** this is asking for trouble

 **morningstarjr:** yeah but

 **morningstarjr:** idk, I want to see America! all the adventures!

 **Trixie:** yes!!!!!

 **DrLinda:** IF your parents allow it.

 **mazikeen:** what’s he gonna say linda, _mom, dad, can I go to la to visit the satanic father I sent away last year because oh! the apocalypse happened_

 **morningstarjr:** something like that, yeah

 **dabestdemon:** noooo no no we worked so hard last year

 **witchbitch:** but did u really

 **saltand:** oooh nice 😄

 **dabestdemon:** OI

 **gayngel:** This could all go very wrong, restart Armageddon, oh dear,

 **brain:** but not if the horsepeople aren’t there? Right?

 **morningstarjr:** it won’t start if I don’t say so

 **morningstarjr:** I think

 **newtthenewt:** That’s very reassuring

 **thedevil:** ok but don’t actually do it now, child

 **thedevil:** things are getting heated and I don’t just mean the fire 🔥

 **Trixie:** also im tired

 **thedetective:** put the phone down and go to sleep, monkey, summer or not it’s almost midnight

 **thedetective:** or there will be no dessert tomorrow

 **Trixie:** ok

 **Trixie:** night 👋

 **morningstarjr:** goodnight

 **brain:** it’s so weird that it’s midnight over there but we’re just having breakfast

 **gayngel:** Is it time for breakfast already?

 **witchbitch:** don’t tell me, you’re in bed having wine instead

 **dabestdemon:** what IS time anyway

 **dabestdemon:** it’s just a tool made to control the universe

 **dabestdemon:** I rememember when it wasn’t a thing yet

 **thedevil:** oh gone are those times…

 **awesomestCSI:** thats so wild

 **awesomestCSI:** a time..befoe time… hoe does that WORK

 **mazikeen:** hoe

 **eve:** hoe

 **witchbitch:** hoe

 **awesomestCSI:** HOW

 **dabestdemon:** i-

 **dabestdemon:** it’s hard to describe???

 **angelicego:** Everything still passes but you don’t count it

 **thedetective:** so like, you don’t say that it’s Monday or 11:47 pm or 2019

 **thedetective:** it’s just nothingness?

 **thedevil:** there was no need for years and hours and mondays in heaven

 **awesomestCSI:** cool

 **witchbitch:** why do u never tell us stories like that @ Crowley and Aziraphale?

 **morningstarjr:** yeah! they must be wicked

 **gayngel:** Well, I mean, you never asked?

 **gayngel:** And for Crowley, it’s… he doesn’t like talking about Before.

 **dabestdemon:** right on spot . but im drunk do I don’t care

 **dabestdemon:** didya know I was originally what u’d call a girl? yeahhh

 **dabestdemon:** god;s fucking favourite

 **dabestdemon:** I built SOOOOOO many things. I’m why u have phones and tablets and tvs and all that shite

 **dabestdemon:** stars! plants!

 **dabestdemon:** i mean planets but plants too

 **dabestdemon:** all mine

 **dabestdemon:** and stardust wine, ohhhh that was brilliant, you should’ve seen me chugging it as a toddler and accidentally inventing amphibians and then getting discorporated by gabriel

 **angelicego:** Because you discorporated me first.

 **dabestdemon:** didn’t know it would happen!!!

 **amen:** I still remember when Michael tried to drink more of it without a body…

 **dabestdemon:** and then my weird…newt…thing licked it off the floor

 **newtthenewt:** You invented newts?

 **dabestdemon:** it was bigger

 **angelicego:** With wings.

 **dabestdemon:** but yeah

 **newtthenewt:** :o

 **angelicego:** We had fun, didn’t we?

 **dabestdemon:** yeahhhhh

 **dabestdemon:** I don’t miss it, nah, it’s just pain yknow? and I like being a demon. heaven’s gone too stiff

 **dabestdemon:** but I miss space sometimes,

 **dabestdemon:** i was stationed at this lil planet in the pegasus galaxy before earth, loved it there, cool people, easy to tempt, I had lots of time to travel

 **dabestdemon:** gimme more wine now pls 🍷🍷🍷

 **dabestdemon:** [ _image attached_ : stunnedangel.jpeg]

 **dabestdemon:** guess I’ll have to take it mself

 **witchbitch:** I mean

 **witchbitch:** wow

 **thedetective:** also I think you just broke Lucifer

 **thedetective:** he’s staring blankly at his phone and you can almost HEAR the cogwheels

 **awesomestCSI:** lucifer.exe has stopped workin

 **mazikeen:** ill set the phone on fire

 **DrLinda:** Please don’t

 **dabestdemon:** poetic eh

 **lordofflies:** ugh so many emotions, I think I’m gonna puke

 **mazikeen:** u choking on that archangel dick yet

 **lordofflies:** rude

 **witchbitch:** aheM there are kids here

 **saltand:** we don’t know what’s going on anyway

 **morningstarjr:** i just know that uncle crowley just got cooler

 **dabestdemon:** nope those aren’t tears in my eyes

 **witchbitch:** so yeah this is probably a bad time but since we’re all here

**witchbitch** _added_ **Tracy** _to_ **the devil and his prada gang**

**witchbitch:** @everyone in this chat (this extends to Sgt Shadwell), Newt and I would like to invite you to our wedding 👫💐💍

 **witchbitch:** it’ll be here in Malibu on July 31

 **Tracy:** How lovely! I told you he was a keeper 😊😊😊😉😉😉👌👌👌🍆🍆🍑🍑💦💦💦💦

 **awesomestCSI:** ive neer been terrified of emojis b4

 **mazikeen:** ;))

 **saltand:** old people texting 🤷🏾

 **awesomestCSI:** also AAAAAAA I LVOE WEDDINGS!!!

 **eve:** we knew, she told us yesterday

 **awesomestCSI:** IK BUT

 **witchbitch:** and before u ask, there won’t be formal invitations bc it’s a waste of paper and we’re trying to save the forests here

 **gayngel:** That’s very fast, isn’t it?

 **dabestdemon:** HAH

 **dabestdemon:** so what u mean to say is that we’re going there anyway

 **newtthenewt:** Yeah but not _now_

 **morningstarjr:** u could’ve mentioned it earlier

 **witchbitch:** look, we were having a silent debate over cider, gin & marshmallows

 **newtthenewt:** I thought we should let this calm down and say it tomorrow but it _is_ a little bit rushed…

 **angelicego:** So by everyone you mean…?

 **witchbitch:** you too

 **witchbitch:** I guess

 **witchbitch:** I mean Lucifer added you here so

 **thedevil:** please come, I want to see you embarrass yourselves

 **dabestdemon:** 😂😂😂 bless, gabe and beelzy at a human wedding?

 **dabestdemon:** im still to sober for this shit

 **thedevil:** #Armageddon’tGang

 **saltand:** I was right, you know

 **brain:** about?

 **saltand:** the patriarchy always wins, smh

 **witchbitch:** u are so right is hurts, but in this case I’m very happy to become a victim to this one custom because this one’s about love and yes, a piece of paper doesn’t change anything, but some people still want to have it

 **witchbitch:** on ecologically produced paper ofc

 **newtthenewt:** I love u so much

 **witchbitch:** **💜💜💜**

 **witchbitch:** also, it’ll be a small ceremony with locally-sourced food prepared by ourselves, right here on the beach, with our best friends as best man and maid of honor and… wait for it… Lucifer officiating

 **dabestdemon:** what- wait- waht????

 **gayngel:** Dear girl, you’re not serious!

 **thedevil:** she’s very much serious

 **thedetective:** yeah, we joked about it being like an anti-wedding

 **thedevil:** but it’s not

 **thedevil:** have god’s power, don’t I?

 **morningstarjr:** brilliant

 **gayngel:** So you’re friends now? With him?

 **witchbitch:** I mean he’s not actually a bad guy? u can see his point when u get to know him better[11]

 **witchbitch:** he also tried to flirt with me

 **witchbitch:** yeah

 **thedetective:** he flirts with everyone 🙄

 **thedevil:** and I found another person on whom it didn’t _work_ [12]

 **newtthenewt:** Serves you right, for chatting up MY fiancée

 **newtthenewt:** It’s still so weird saying that

 **thedetective:** oh I know the feeling

 **witchbitch:** the only question is

 **witchbitch:** kids, do u want to be the flower children? 🌹

 **brain:** yeah!

 **cheese:** Sure!

 **saltand:** since we can’t talk u out of it 🤷🏾

 **morningstarjr:** can dog carry the rings

 **witchbitch:** we’d like nothing better 😉

* * *

1 Ella knows Crowley and Aziraphale because on 30 June, they joined her, Maze, Eve, and all those superheroes we don’t like to mention at New York Pride. Why? It was the 50th anniversary of Crowley’s amazing—and rather violent, if Aziraphale says so—revolution, of course.[✿]

2 They have, obviously, been living in Anathema’s house for five days now. And being all vacation-y. Lying on the beach. Swimming. Drinking at beach parties. Eating them out of house and home.[✿]

3 She found out the truth about Azrael right after she had found out about Lucifer, which was about the time Chloe had seen his Devil Face. She _had_ been mad at her for telling her she was a ghost and then lying for all those years, but being the Angel of Death was insanely cool, so Rae-Rae had quickly been forgiven.[✿]

4 Aziraphale was proud of his collection of throw pillows. They were everywhere. On the sofa, the armchairs, the bed, the floor more often than not… They were an incredible mix of styles, too. Oriental colours and mandalas, Victorian simplicity, cats and cheesy lines and, in one case, beige fur from sales at Tesco’s: he had it all.[✿]

5 God has been reading, and right now, a smile formed on Her lips. Just this once, Lucifer wasn’t wrong.[✿]

6 Or remember that he could simply use the phone and transport himself (and Aziraphale) to Malibu via the phone network.[✿]

7By “I thought it was clever”, Aziraphale meant something more along the lines of “someone else gave this to me but who was I to argue, it’s a pun!”.[✿]

8 This is a reference to Wensleydale cheese. It’s an English thing.[✿]

9 Anathema would like to inform everyone that the language was contagious.[✿]

10 The demons have finished _Supernatural_ last week and started a new show: _Brooklyn Nine-Nine._ The Auditorium—properly capitalised now, as decreed by the Grammar Section Paperwork—has never been more crowded.[✿]

11 This included reading his [aura](https://psychiclibrary.com/aura-colors-and-meanings/). She had expected a negative one like with the Horsepersons, or a black one, or lots of red and brown. There _was_ red all right, but it was deep red mixed with pink, orange, and yellow. Not the angry kind of red. 

She had read Aziraphale and Crowley’s at the air base, too. The angel’s was mostly white with some pink. She saw that coming. Crowley’s _was_ black. She saw that coming too. But, to her great surprise, stripes of rainbow spread from his head and hands. Healing power. Divinity. _Huh_.[✿]

12 Thanks to her occult upbringing and hereditary abilities, Anathema could resist revealing her darkest, deepest desire. Just barely, but she could. His charms didn’t work on her, either. Newt wasn’t so fortunate and babbled after two seconds. Lucifer was disappointed to find out his desires were _boring_ : getting old with his wife and a bunch of children and grandchildren in a nice house in the country.[✿]


	21. in which son meets father (and trixie)

Lucifer and Adam had agreed to meet on Sunday.

Actually, no, let us rephrase. Chloe and Linda, being Wise and Experienced With Children, had convinced Adam _not to_ go to London[1] and subsequently walk into the Lobby and through the LA Door when everyone was still in Malibu due to safety reasons[2], and had instead advised him to meet up with Trixie in LA proper.

Then they had had the brilliant idea of suggesting that Lucifer should supervise when it’s _his_ son and _his_ post-apocalypse problem and _his_ chance for some indirect therapy. Of-bloody-course.

He had argued. “Trixie is your daughter too, Chloe,” he had said. “And we’ve been back for barely a week; we ought to make every second of this second chance count!”

“It’s just one afternoon, Lucifer,” Chloe had told him with a kiss on the cheek and a pat on his chest. Then her look had softened, and he’d _known_ he’d lost. “We have all the time in the world now. There’s no need to rush things.”

A little, irritating voice in his head had told him that she—and Linda—were right. He hated that voice. Listening to it was about the least fun thing he could do. But trouble often arose when he ignored it[3], and so he had grabbed his mobile with a sigh and texted Adam that he’d be picking him up at 11:45.

Like he was the Good Samaritan or something. Utterly preposterous.

Nevertheless, he, the Devil, King of Hell, recently liberated from the confinement of his office and the sulphuric smell that not even the best fabric softener could quite get off the clothes no matter what the commercial said, currently found himself impatiently tapping away at the steering wheel of his Corvette, waiting for a boy of eleven to step outside of the most dangerous building in all of LA.

He was supposed to have been there ten minutes since.

Lucifer wondered whether tardiness was contagious and could be caught from demons whose name began with a C and ended with exasperation[4].

Then someone tapped on the car’s window. 

‘You must be Lucifer,’ the boy said curtly. Lucifer noticed a rucksack hanging from his shoulder and a leash in his other hand. Whatever was on the other end of it barked, and he realised it couldn’t have been anyone other than Dog, the former and very disgraced Hellhound.

The dog said[5], ‘Lift me up, I want to see.’

Adam ignored him, not having developed the ability to speak the language. He blinked. It made Lucifer want to look away and go hide somewhere decidedly not nice. And—was he just trying to inspire _Guilt_ in him?

‘Yes, obviously,’ he said, throwing in a polite smile. He swallowed the weird feeling down and tried to pay him back in kind. ‘And you’re late.’

‘I just wanted to talk to the people in the lobby. They were very curious about me[6]. Unlike you.’

Never mind Hell; the child was _good_.

‘Yes, well, we can’t have it all, can we?’ Lucifer cleared his throat. Dog barked something about the current unfairness of being a small dog. ‘Come on then, get in. But please, for the love of Mother, don’t get anything sticky on the seats. Cleaning the leather is expensive.’

He had learnt this three years ago after a cocaine-involving party, which had ended with two models and a member of the men’s Olympic swim team in the back of that car. And no, Lucifer didn’t know _how_ they had fit there either.

‘You could just miracle it away,’ Adam pointed out.

He was—well, he was right. But Lucifer wasn’t about to give him the lecture on Why He Was Also Wrong. The Devil didn’t share his[7] secrets. He merely continued to stare in an Unimpressed Way.

Adam opened the door and said to the dog, ‘Come on, boy, hop in. We’re going to meet Trixie. You want to meet her, don’t you?’

Dog cocked an ear and whined in agreement. He sniffed at the car before he leapt up onto the passenger’s seat and wisely decided to hop in the back, head bent down in respect. ‘You’re my former master. I recognise the smell,’ he barked.

‘Well, it’s not exactly forgettable, is it?’ Lucifer said to him. Most of his jackets would agree.

Adam climbed into the Corvette and shut the door. ‘You can talk to Dog? You _understand_ him?’

‘Yes, of course. I understand everyone and everything.’

He started the car and pulled away from the kerb without fastening his seatbelt. He only did that when Chloe was there to check. And right now, she was at the mall with Linda and Charlie, shopping for baby stuff and sharing gossip and what have you. _Without him_.

‘Cor.’ Adam looked at the road in front of him; the masses of people milling about, actual _palm trees_. He didn’t belt up either. Then he turned to Lucifer and said something straight-out Shocking. ‘Can you teach me?’

Had Lucifer been drinking something, he might have spat it out. This has _not_ been a part of the Agreement. ‘I—it comes with the whole _angelic_ business. I don’t think you can learn it unless you—’

‘Accept it.’ Adam’s eyebrows furrowed, and he suddenly looked much older than eleven. ‘But that would confuse the Universe and I dunno what could happen then. And besides, I don’t _want you_ as my dad. This doesn’t change anything.’

_This_. The meeting. Sitting in his car. No, it definitely didn’t change anything for Lucifer either. Or, you know, confuse the Hell out of him.

‘Perfect,’ he said, maintaining a mostly calm façade. ‘I’m glad we’re on the same page here. Makes a lot of things easier.’

He turned on the radio. A song by Ed Sheeran was playing, and he could make out the line _take me back to London_. Right. This wasn’t ironic at all. Was Adam doing this on purpose?

Adam didn’t seem to pay it any mind; he was fingering the straps of his rucksack absentmindedly. ‘But you—did you _know_ about me?’

‘God didn’t exactly send me a memo or ask me if I wanted to take part in any of that if that’s what you mean. No, I found out the hard way when Beelzebub summoned me.’

It felt like so long ago, now. That day when he popped up at the air base and faced this screaming child for five seconds before literally everything in his life went to Hell. Or perhaps after? He was still unclear on this front.

‘So it was her[8] fault.’

‘Yes! That’s the point here!’ Lucifer stopped at a red light and turned to him. Never mind that that wasn’t entirely correct. ‘No one consults the Devil, so the Devil consults with the LAPD.’

You know, _payback_.

‘Trixie told me you helped solving murders,’ Adam said, and stopped scrunching the straps. Intrigue glimmered in his eyes, and he went back to being an excited eleven-year-old. It was uncanny. ‘Are we gonna see a murder scene?’

‘No,’ Lucifer laughed. The traffic light switched to green. ‘We’re picking her up at Chloe’s house. She wanted to go to the zoo.’

There wasn’t a new case today, anyway. If there were, he would have the perfect excuse as to why he shouldn’t have to go through this whole exclusive driver ordeal. No, he would have a good time theorising about why was this very popular aerobics instructor killed instead. With his girlfriend, rather than her daughter and her new friend, who so just happened to be his unwanted Antichrist son.

He looked up and thought, _am I a joke to you?_

As per usual, there was no reply.

Only from Adam, who said, ‘Awesome. Do you have elephants here? They don’t have ‘em in London[9]. I think they should have ‘em. Elephants are interesting. They’re so big, but they only eat grass an’ stuff.’

‘Yes, we have elephants,’ said Lucifer, who has been dragged to the zoo by Beatrice no less than three times in two years. ‘Did you know they were Ra—Crowley’s invention? Tapirs, too. All the weird animals. But not platypuses. God made those when He was drunk[10].’

And Lucifer didn’t want to think about that, but it was too late now. He just _had to_ go and stupidly remember that one time on Monday when Crowley started being all nostalgic on the chat.

‘Awesome. Did he make whales too? Crowley, I mean.’

‘No, I think they’re Gabriel’s. Big, grey, and boring. He’s never had much creativity to go around.’

‘I could tell. He thought War was the only way.’

Lucifer didn’t say anything else after that. He didn’t know _what_ to say; his mind, still somewhat perplexed, spun at fifty miles per hour as the car rolled along the motorway. Dog barked out a reply of, ‘Lucifer and you made _me_.’

‘It’s so weird sitting on this side of the car,’ Adam said eventually. ‘It’s where Dad always sits when he’s driving.’

Honestly, the irony in that couldn’t become more of a sore thumb. Lucifer really had no choice but to scoff at—all this. ‘Welcome to Los Angeles, Adam Young. Next stop: the demon’s lair.’

‘Trixie told me she was with Maze,’ Adam nodded. He fidgeted in his seat.

‘Aren’t you a little too smart for your age?’ Lucifer whipped his head around to look at him. He honestly couldn’t tell, and he didn’t like it. Children were Confusing.

Adam’s gaze bore into his, and there it was again: the subconscious Guilt. His words had weight. It was like his brain alternated between the human and the angel, and it was a wild guess between which side what statement would bring out. ‘Maybe. But it’s not a _bad_ thing to be.’

‘Never said it was, it’s just—you remind me of me,’ Lucifer admitted. He thought it would be wiser to focus on the road. ‘And as much as I try to disassociate myself from you, it’s like _something_ keeps trying to make that bloody _impossible_.’

On second thoughts, he glanced up at the sky again.

‘Well, _you_ agreed to meet and talk,’ Adam said accusingly.

‘And as far as I know, _you_ wanted to come here and bother me in the first place,’ he shot back. He narrowly avoided colliding with a blue minivan that came to a halt in front of him. 

Truth be told, it was a Mutual Agreement that included both involved parties not being averse to a) seeing each other in person and b) Talking about Things, while being disinterested in a continuous relationship of any sort, let alone that of a father-son character. He might have mentioned it before. But it was insubstantial right now. He wasn’t going to admit that he was Wrong here, nope.

‘I wanted to visit Trixie and say hi to Anathema an’ Newt in Malibu,’ said Adam, crossing his arms with a pout. This was where Lucifer’s stubbornness showed, really. ‘That’s where we’re going later.’

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. It was halfway between impressed and annoyed. ‘Oh, are we now?’

‘Yeah. I can’t drive myself, can I? Or fly. That’s just asking the Universe for trouble.’

Dog said, ‘Birds!’

Lucifer looked up, this time not squinting up at God, and indeed found a flock of seagulls flying overhead. He scoffed again. This was ridiculous. Dog was ridiculous. Every-bloody-thing was ridiculous. Why _was_ he here? What was the _point_? Why _had_ he signed the proverbial agreement and drove his so-called son around? Why had they scheduled the meet-up for Sunday if they were going to go to the beach house anyway?

Why, why _anything_ [11]?

Because, yeah, Lucifer wasn’t going to lie to himself. He _will_ take him there. Call him soft and get smitten, though.

They spent the last four minutes of the ride in silence.

When Lucifer parked the convertible in front of Chloe’s house, Dog jumped over the door and ran straight to the house, yapping excitedly. Adam wasn’t far behind. He was eager to get out, and Lucifer thought, _good for him_.

With a sigh, he climbed out of the car. He fixed his jacket and considered taking it off in the July heat, but he was nothing if not petty and couldn’t lose his reputation of a rich, highly fashionable gentleman[12], and decided against it. He strode to the door.

‘Hi, Lucifer!’ The little urchin waved at him from the hallway. She was wearing a white dress and at least three strings of colourful beads around her neck[13]. ‘Adam! You’re really here!’

‘I am! You have no idea how cool the Heaven-Hell building was. There’s _water_ instead of the floor[14] but only when you want to go Up or Down; when you’re passing from door to door, you just walk on normal floor. And it was like a—a portal to a different dimension or something.’

Lucifer was _not_ jealous that he didn’t express such enthusiasm around him, besides the brief episode with the elephants. Nope.

‘Can we go there?’ Trixie asked the boy, google-eyed. Then she turned to Lucifer and crossed her arms very crossly. She has learnt that from Maze, no doubt. ‘You never told me about that place.’

‘It was—’

‘Irrelevant? _Right_.’ She shook her head. ‘You told Mummy you wouldn’t lie to her anymore, and I think that applies to me too.’

Lucifer opened his mouth and promptly shut it again, an imitation of a confused carp. When did she get so _smart_? It was like there were two of them now, Mother damn it twice. And—there actually _were_ two of them. They were both glaring.

At least until Dog pawed at Trixie’s legs and she squatted down to scratch his ears.

‘Hi, Dog! You’re cute,’ she said. She giggled when he licked her hands. ‘Mummy won’t let me have a dog and Daddy says he won’t give me one if she says no. It’s not fair.’

He barked, ‘Life isn’t fair. The cats keep ignoring me.’

‘Right,’ Lucifer chuckled. He opted not to correct him on the absence of cats’ attention being the only unfair thing in Life. ‘Well, urchin, we missed the eleventh birthday sentiment here, but we’ll see about the twelfth.’

He believed in indulging one’s desires, after all. No—he was the _embodiment_ of indulging one’s desires.

‘You’d give me a Hellhound?’ she grinned and rose up, only to find herself wrapped around Lucifer’s waist. She has grown since he first met her. ‘Awesome. Thanks, Lucifer.’

‘Now, now, don’t get overexcited, I didn’t say anything.’ No, the blanket ban on giving out Hellhounds still applied. Regular dogs, however… He pressed a finger against his lips. ‘Don’t tell Mummy, alright?’

She mimicked the gesture when she stepped away. The beads rattled.

Behind her, Mazikeen walked up to the door and crossed her arms in the exact same fashion Trixie had shown earlier. She sent a Look Adam’s way. A demonic blade flashed in one of her hands. ‘Hey, Antichrist child. If you hurt her, you have _no_ idea what’s coming for you. I don’t care if you’re Lucifer’s kid.’

He nodded. ‘Noted. But don’t worry, I wouldn’t hurt anyone. I’m not that person. Not anymore.’

Maze twirled the blade on her finger.

‘Cool. Have fun,’ she said and walked kitchen-ward, having something more interesting to do, possibly involving more knives[15].

Lucifer remembered that they were supposed to go to the zoo and gestured at the Corvette. ‘Alright, let’s not waste time here, we can chitchat in the car.’

For once, he kept his mouth shut and didn’t add, _since I’m stuck with you anyway_. He didn’t want to become subject to more judgmental glares from eleven-year-olds. But he imagined this sort of self-control won’t last long in this company.

‘Can I drive?’ asked Trixie. She grabbed her purple handbag from the hook and shut the door.

‘I’m afraid not. You _scratched_ her the last time,’ Lucifer said. He made a beeline for his beloved, miracle-fixed—will you look at that, the lengths he had to go to!—car. It had been a nasty one: unfortunately, the hydrant hadn’t moved itself out of the way in time.

‘You let Trixie drive your car?’ Adam raised an eyebrow at him.

Trixie answered before Lucifer could so much as take a breath, opening the back door. Dog jumped onto his seat in one swift movement. ‘He gives me lessons. I suck at parallel parking but otherwise he says I’m good.’

‘But you can’t drive at _eleven_ ,’ Adam said with the same conviction to his voice that made the Universe rearrange molecules and ripple air. He climbed in next to her, leaving Lucifer to himself in the front. The Devil was relieved.

‘Says who?’ she asked. Dog settled between Adam and her.

‘The Rules?’

‘Maze says rules are meant to be broken, twisted, and stabbed through.’ She leant forward and peeped from between the two seats. ‘Isn’t that right, Lucifer?’

‘Exactly! As one very imaginative demon says, my dear small humans, rules are nothing but mere suggestions. And let’s be honest, no one takes those seriously,’ he said, and stepped on the gas. The convertible pulled from the kerb and proceeded to speed down the road at ten mph above the limit.

‘It’s Uncle Crowley, isn’t it,’ Adam said, matter-of-fact. ‘Uncle Zira says he drives like a maniac.’

‘Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure, but I’ve heard the stories,’ Lucifer said, chuckling. ‘You should’ve seen him when we still used horses[16].’

‘He sounds funny,’ said Trixie. She returned to her seat, disregarding the seatbelt as well. It was practically a tradition where this car was concerned. ‘I can’t wait to meet him at the wedding.’

Ah, yes. The wedding, aka the first time since August _everyone_ will meet, not to mention Chloe and Bruce Wayne and everyone else who hadn’t been at the air base. He almost succumbed to the urge to pray for no horrible disaster to occur— _almost_ being the keyword.

He will officiate, after all, and a wedding was only as good as the person in charge. He happened to be excellent at this sort of thing. Especially the parties that came after. He said, ‘I’m sure that’ll be a _spectacular_ event.’ 

‘I’ve been to a wedding once,’ Adam supplied. ‘Aunt Cheryl got married for the second time two years ago. It was boring. But the food was good, at least.’

‘Well, this one won’t be boring,’ Trixie decided. She petted Dog on his head, and he shook himself and stuck out his tongue. ‘Right, Dog?’

‘No!’ he barked.

Trixie laughed; Lucifer wasn’t the only one who understood this one. She opened her handbag and took her mobile. She tapped away at it and then said, ‘No, because _we’ll_ all be there.’ She held the mobile up in the air. ‘Say cheese!’

She took about a dozen selfies, all of which contained all sorts of weird grimaces. Lucifer could see them all in the rear-view mirror. He recalled reading Crowley’s report on their invention, just a few years back. Or was it a few years? Well, in 1839.

Then he heard his name. ‘So, Lucifer.’

‘Hmm?’

‘When will _you_ marry my mummy?’

This was another drink-spitting moment. Honest to the Great Green Arkleseizure. ‘ _What_?’

‘I know you and Mummy love each other and do Stuff in the bedroom and spend all time together. She and Daddy used to do that when they were still married. So, when will you ask her to marry you?’

Lucifer… hasn’t given this a thought. Well, no, that wasn’t true. But he hasn’t given _going through with it_ a thought. She was human. He was the Devil, and one not for weddings at that. Not his own, anyway. Admitting his love for her to _himself_ took him four years. No, this was an utterly ridiculous thought.

And yet…

No. Ridiculous. Right back at that, we are.

‘Don’t be silly, child,’ he said. ‘People don’t need to be married to do all that.’

‘But Anathema and Newt are getting married,’ Trixie mused, dangling her legs. ‘And Marcus asked her to marry him last year.’

‘Not everyone has the same opinion on things, you know. And stop asking me stupid questions if you want the good ice cream.’

He could see her pout in the rear-view mirror—but the prospect of her favourite chocolate-and-vanilla ice with hazelnut topping beat anything. They only had that at one of the food kiosks. He grinned victoriously.

Also, he really wasn’t in the mood to think about _Cain_.

‘I mean,’ Adam said, ‘look at Crowley and Aziraphale. They’re not married either, but they clearly love each other.’

‘Yes, precisely.’ He quickly checked his Rolex watch to distract himself from the fact that Adam supported his reasoning. It was 12:29 p.m.[17] ‘Now, we should be at the zoo in ten minutes, and if you want to go to Malibu later, I suggest you don’t dawdle. It’s an hour’s drive. And I’m not your babysitter.’

‘It’s okay. I could slow down time if I _really_ wanted to.’

‘So we can have five hours at the zoo instead of three and then still go to Malibu?’ Trixie asked, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. ‘Great!’

‘You know what else is _great_?’ Lucifer turned around, one hand resting on the wheel and the other on the headrest. As his gaze fixed on Adam, celestial fire flashed in his eyes for a millisecond. ‘I can tell if someone’s doing it and cut it short[18]. You got it from me, after all.’

‘I thought you didn’t want to be my dad,’ Adam grinned, absolutely not terrified. He’s never been, not even at the End of the World. Lucifer had to give him that. ‘So why are you suddenly acting like one?’

‘Touché.’

Trixie crossed her arms again, somewhat complacently, and looked between the two of them. ‘Admit it,’ she said. ‘This is the opposite of awful. You’re having _fun_.’

Lucifer didn’t comment and turned away. In the mirror, the children could see a hint of a smile on his lips nevertheless.

Adam muttered a _maybe_ and looked the other way. The wind ruffled his blond curls—so reminiscent of Lucifer’s first body, the one he’d had before the War and almost forgotten. He knew that _shouldn’t_ matter, because there was nothing hereditary about corporations, not unless you were born with one like Amenadiel or the Archangels. That didn’t mean he didn’t find himself _thinking about it_.

Dog barked, ‘Definitely! Fun, fun, fun!’

Lucifer drove on.

* * *

1 By “go to London”, we mean Adam convincing himself that he _really_ should be in _London_ right now, not in his garden, because he had something important there and _had to_ be in London. It barely even counted as abusing his powers.[✿]

2 The Bat Family could be very, very wild and dangerous people and tended to have Stupid Ideas, and _no one_ wanted them to rope the actual Antichrist into their hijinks. It was enough that the two youngest, Damian and Helena, were friends with Trixie and giving her all sorts of ideas.[✿]

3 Look at the whole Apocalypse business.[✿]

4 The answer was yes, if said demon rewound all of one’s clocks by five minutes, or cursed one to always join the longest, slowest queue at the café, or tempted a couple of bus drivers to shut the door in one’s face because the schedule was the schedule, _stupid_. 

This, however, was not the case. Adam was immune to demonic temptations—or blessings, for that matter. It had something to do with the Antichrist physiology. [✿]

5 Being a Fallen, Lucifer could understand every language of the Universe, including Dog or Mammoth or Yiddish or Kryptonian. You name it.[✿]

6 Adam Young Himself, visiting them personally? It was the _highlight_ of the decade where the clerks were concerned. In the course of the past year, he has been the subject of not one research paper. Yes, Heaven and Hell had those. Either as torture or as reward, depending on whom you asked. No, it wasn’t always the option you might think of.[✿]

7 Embarrassing.[✿]

8 Adam had a knack for telling whether someone went by he, she, or they—which Anathema told him about last year—pronouns. But he had no idea the neopronouns, such as ze/zir or xe/xem, existed and went with the next best thing when guessing with the Prince. But he wasn’t wrong. Ze had been alternating between she and they until those were invented at the end of the twentieth century, and even so, it was merely a _preference_.[✿]

9 Adam had gone to London Zoo as a part of his class trip in June. All of it was mostly disappointing. The animals weren’t even doing much of anything or he didn’t see them at all, and then when they went to the Natural History Museum, the tyrannosaurus skeleton wasn’t moving like on _Night at the Museum_. But London was nice.[✿]

10 And sort of regretted it to this day, but not enough to cut the experiment short like She had done with dragons. They were small and too ridiculous to _really_ get rid of.[✿]

11 You have one guess. Yes, you guessed right, congratulations! The answer was, of course, the Ineffable Plan.

Why anything? Once the Universe set its sights on a certain path, it wasn’t so keen on letting it go. And Lucifer not meeting Adam before August 2018 and then crossing paths with him again on numerous occasions was one of those. If—a pointless word, Adam would say, one that adults used way too often—he had known about him, he still would have stuck him to Crowley, and it would have still happened the same. A child in Hell didn’t exactly spell a good idea, or authority, or safety. Never mind the Antichrist’s supposed Evilness. Lucifer wasn’t that kind of Devil.

He’d have been prepared, you might argue. He’d have stopped the rebellions in time. The demons would never have kidnapped Charlie, and he’d never have had to go Down and leave Chloe. But he would _also_ never have rebranded and redecorated Hell that way, would he? He’d have just left anyway. The rule wouldn’t have improved, and neither would the relations between angels and demons. Two sides to every coin, as they say.[✿]

12 The unfortunate incident with his orgy trousers put aside.[✿]

13 Anathema gave them to her upon everyone’s departure on Friday. She had made them herself as a child and worn them every day in different combinations until she was about 16 and developed a more sophisticated fashion sense. Two had magical amulets that were supposed to protect one’s wearer from bad ghosts and all sorts of bad luck. Trixie loved them.[✿]

14 This was to do with one’s faith. When an angel had faith in Her, they could walk on water and go Upstairs. A demon had lost their faith, and therefore sank and went Downstairs instead. Lucifer principally avoided using the main entrance lest he cause a kerfuffle by not actually sinking. Because it _had_ happened when he was returning to Hell this April. An awkward moment, that.[✿]

15 Not wrong. She was cooking extra-hot chicken curry for brunch. Though it couldn’t exactly be described as good cooking, or brunch-appropriate. But she was a demon and couldn’t find it in herself to care.[✿]

16 The horses still were in Hell somewhere, being bored and restlessly lighting things on fire with their breath. No one rode them when they went to Earth anymore. They hated it and asked themselves what they’ve ever done wrong. Or not-wrong.[✿]

17 Due to time zones, Adam had to leave his house after 7 p.m. But it was okay, because he could just tell his parents that he was going upstairs after dinner and then convince them he _had_ been in his bed the next day.[✿]

18 Have we mentioned Angels of the First Sphere and time manipulation? Lucifer might hate that one, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t able to do it too.[✿]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and then the antichrist got roped into the bat family's hijinks anyway because they're all staying for two weeks. yes, he did it on purpose. they have the last living dragon. 
> 
> (that's comics canon in case you think the author is joking)


	22. in which nothing is as it seems, apparently

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's for everyone who asked about the game nights ;) warning for extra crack and too many footnotes
> 
> also, i updated the chapter count because with like 95% probability i'm gonna split chapter 23 into two parts: bachelorette party + wedding! i wanted to keep them together but knowing myself, it would end up being a 10k chapter and take too long to write, so

Crowley felt like he was being punished for something.

He didn’t know what, but there was definitely _something_. Must be. Because the heat in England just couldn’t bloody _drop_. No, the temperature had to go and climb all the way to 38 degrees centigrade— _thirty-eight_! In England! And 35 on the thermometer he kept on the northern wall of their cottage! That was _literally_ worse than _Hell_ [1].

Snakes liked warmth, but not sweltering heat, okay. Too much was too much even for a serpent demon such as him.

But the worst thing was that he couldn’t make up his mind about what _was_ the worst thing. The devastating temperatures, or Aziraphale putting his book down and announcing that he was going for a swim, at 8 p.m., already taking his shirt off?

Maybe it was one single complementary Bad Thing, that.

Because, well, Aziraphale without clothes was a sight that he _has_ been privy to quite the number of times recently, mostly during bed-related activities, but he still hasn’t seen _enough_ (or maybe wasn’t drunk enough?) not to get all fried up there where his braincell resided. The same braincell that has travelled significantly lower.

At least the water lapping against his feet was cold enough to calm both of those irritating notions and let him stay focused as he alternated between observing the angel and his golden hair shining in the red sunset and typing away on his mobile.

To complain about his situation on a group chat.

And take wannabe artsy photos of Aziraphale, who had the _nerve_ to wave at him. You know, for future extortion. Or something. _Look, angel, here! Proof that you can bloody swim. You’re not getting out of diving with dolphins **now** , so get off that sofa._

With the use of a miracle to keep said mobile from getting wet.

Not that it lasted for long. About a minute later, Aziraphale stood up and headed towards Crowley, which Distracted him enough to make him forget about miracles—and at the precise moment, a wave decided to gather a little too much force than usual and crash against the sandy shore with enough vigour to drench a demon from head to toe[2].

He spat out a mouthful of brine and blessed under his breath. But he had to admit, getting his hair wet _was_ a nice upside of this unfortunate incident. His head didn’t feel like spontaneously catching on Hellfire anymore.

Aziraphale, the utter bastard, looked him, his Miserable Frowny Expression, and his wet iPhone up and down. With a twitch of his lips that was a little too complacent for Crowley’s liking, he said, ‘The sea is but an unrestrained force of nature, darling, and one ought to be careful around its unpredictable power.’

Then he kept on walking towards their tartan blanket, leaving footprints in the sand and—gasp!—dripping onto the fabric. Crowley knew, because Crowley followed the angel, naked but for a pair of swimming shorts[3], with his serpentine eyes all the way there.

He wasn’t blushing or choking on air and anyone who said otherwise was a liar liar pants on fire[4].

Grateful for his sunglasses, he ran a hand through his drenched locks and let out a blow of air. He checked the mobile to distract himself from the Distraction. It was wise enough to work. And alerted him about 40 new messages in the group chat.

He skimmed through them. There was nothing all that interesting—well, Eve has landed a job at a place that grew organic fruits and veg, and he thought, good for her, and then snorted, because _of course she would_ —and he observed as more messages popped up. Mostly complaints about the heat. Even America was sweltering, apparently.

And then:

> **charliesdemons:** also the heaven/hell building has an air-conditioned lobby and were having drinks so come by @ crowley
> 
> **dabestdemon:** who’s there? not gabriel pls
> 
> **charliesdemons:** the whole celestial crew plus zari[5] and linda and u know
> 
> **charliesdemons:** so yea gabriel too
> 
> **lucinda:** he won’t smite you or aziraphale, don’t worry

Crowley glanced at Aziraphale, lying on the blanket with his hands crossed on his belly. He glanced at the surging sea, and the setting sun, and his own, already dry skin. Sitting with his feet in the waves wasn’t a long-term solution to his current troubles[6], for sure.

And he _has_ been curious about these game nights. They have, apparently, been happening for at least seventy years without his knowledge, and he felt very, _very_ betrayed about the notion. And has he mentioned Curious?

He texted back: _uhh I guess the prospect of a bit of cold beats anything_.

Then he heaved himself up and called, ‘Angel, there’s a party on at the Lobby and I’ve just got a VIP invite!’ When Aziraphale lifted his head to look at him, Crowley held up the mobile. ‘They’ve got drinks and air-conditioning.’

‘Who, precisely?’ he asked in a manner that suggested he was very doubtful about the company, and he was right. Crowley _wasn’t_ going to mention Gabriel.

‘Ehh, you know, Lucifer and the Guys. Probably Azrael, Castiel, some demons, some humans, I don’t know. They mentioned card games?’

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up. He must’ve remembered the conversation they’ve had once upon a time and the injustice of not being invited. _Great minds think alike!_

Then he scowled as he remembered the Execution.

‘Lucifer says we won’t get smitten,’ said Crowley, and caught himself disbelieving of his own _trust_ in his boss. When did _that_ happen? He plopped down onto the atrocious blanket rather heavily.

Aziraphale’s scanning gaze was back at it again. Crowley imagined himself Continuing Not to Blush and sent a quick _shut up_ at the Snake Tattoo’s intrusive Feelings. But this time, the angel just took his hand and pulled it up to his own, saying, ‘Forgive me if I don’t quite take his word for it.’

‘You’re asking the wrong demon.’

‘You _know_ what I mean.’

‘Yeah, but,’ Crowley nudged him with his foot, ‘could be a business opportunity. Tell me you don’t want to waltz in there to tell them off for being hypocrites on like, fifty levels and watch _them_ simmer for a change.’

‘That would be—’

‘ _Unholy_?’ Crowley liberated his hand from Aziraphale for the purpose of air quotes. He raised an amused eyebrow. ‘Not when it’s true.’

Aziraphale considered this for a moment, pretending to be all sullen and offended. An undetermined length of time later, he let out a sigh and turned to Crowley. ‘Did you, ah, say they had air-conditioning?’

The demon propped himself on one arm and grinned something wicked. ‘They always do, angel. Or have you forgotten what the Lobby looks like after a year?’

Aziraphale’s micro-expressions ranged between oh-shut-up-you, you-are-very-distracting, and you’re-right-aren’t-you. He purposefully turned to look at the sky. Crowley thought he looked dreamy. ‘Has it been a year? Feels like yesterday, really.’

‘Well, eleven months on the dot. Not that I’m counting.’

Hint: he was. It wasn’t something you Forgot, stopping Armageddon and almost being killed by your former boss afterwards. 

He was leaning on both elbows, now. He stared at his sand-encrusted legs[7] and the floral piece on his thigh. It didn’t dare fade in colour and behaved better than his actual plants, for sure. But his eyes always wandered over to Aziraphale eventually.

‘Right you are, my dear,’ he smiled, with that sort of nostalgic and a little bit distant smile of his. ‘Well, I suppose—it is unnaturally hot, isn’t it? And I _could_ do with a drink.’

So could Crowley. Desperately. And while he was at it, he wanted to see if he could get Gabriel to get drunk, too. It was easy to mortally embarrass someone when they were a lightweight, and a lightweight he _was_. Then, oh then he could get his revenge in the best way possible.

He’d make _videos_ and show them to _everyone_.

‘That’s the spirit!’ he called and stood up in a single fluid movement which definitely did not correspond to the laws of physics[8]. He reached out to Aziraphale and wiggled his fingers. ‘Come on, then.’

‘Oh, alright,’ said the angel, and took his hand. He brushed away sand that had stuck to his body with a slightly indignant glance towards him. Crowley bit the side of his cheek and suppressed a satisfied chuckle[9]. With a snap of his fingers, he packed up the blanket and everything else—some snacks, a book, his mobile—into a tote bag and slung it over his shoulder.

He all but dragged Aziraphale home.

He found Delilah dozing under the oleander, and spared a perfunctory glance at the garden. His plants were, thankfully, very wise specimens who didn’t let something as inconsequential as heat and drought spoil their luscious beauty. Except for the currants; they were stubborn bitches who _refused_ to bear fruit and he made it very clear that he disapproved.

They didn’t deign him with a single move when he sent them a Look over the edge of his sunglasses. Honestly. The _cheek_.

Crowley pushed the sunglasses back onto his nose and followed Aziraphale inside. It was time to get the damp swimming trunks off and put on something stylish. Like one of his dozen pairs of tight jeans and a… black shirt, tied at the waist and sleeves rolled up. Yeah, that would do nicely in this weather.

Naturally, Aziraphale went for beige trousers, blue shirt, bow tie, and old coat: the classic combo. Well, minus the shabby waistcoat. Crowley had to do a doubletake.

He busied himself texting Charlie. _I’m gonna call u, pls pick up and put the phone down_.

They replied with a thumbs-up, and he said, ‘Grab my hand, angel, we’re taking a shortcut.’

Aziraphale ceased fretting about his tie. It was as straight as Aziraphale wasn’t. ‘Angels can’t—’

‘But demons can,’ he raised an eyebrow, inviting him to try. He had possessed Madame Tracy that one time, so it was safe to say that the lack of prohibition against fraternising wasn’t the only thing everyone’s been Wrong about.

‘Yes, rather.’ He swallowed and grabbed the hand. Crowley liked that they kept doing that nowadays. ‘But if you get me discorporated, you’re on the sofa for a year[10].’

Crowley grimaced. ‘I’ve been sleeping on your sofa for about a hundred years, Aziraphale, ‘s not even a threat and you know it.’

He dialled the number and hopped into the telephone network, a rather bewildered angel in tow. It took about three seconds for them to cross the distance between their cottage and London—or to be precise, the Main Building, the closest entrance to which was in London.

As soon as the atoms of Crowley’s corporation finished assembling themselves, he checked on Aziraphale, who has, thankfully, survived the journey in one piece. ‘You okay, angel? Nothing missing?’

‘No, I don’t think so.’ He shook out his arms and cracked the knuckles in his wrists. ‘Though I do feel a bit tingly. Hungry, perhaps.’

‘That was fast,’ said a voice next to him. Crowley whipped around to face the trickster demon known as Charlie, wearing fishnet tights and a leopard-print dress on their currently female-presenting corporation. They gave him a high-five and picked their iPhone up from a desk.

He was glad for some respectable company, at least where demons were concerned.

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes at Gabriel, who was taking up the seat next to Beelzebub, and then turned to Crowley with the kind of accusation that made him feel like it was _his_ fault that the Archangel was there. Which it _hardly_ was, thank you very much.

And speaking of unrespectable company: Beelzebub, who was sitting at the head of the table closest to him, grunted in displeasure. ‘Who invited _you two_?’ ze asked, giving them the stink-eye[11]. Or zir usual indifferent expression, one could never really tell with zir.

‘I did,’ said Charlie, grinning, and winked at their former boss. They walked over to their chair, confident in their black combat boots Crowley highly approved of, and sat down next to who Crowley vaguely recalled being their girlfriend and—was that Belphegor?

He let out an awkward groan and waved at the—people? let’s just call them people—who have all noticed their arrival by this point. They were staring six ways to Sunday. ‘Hi guys?’

Lucifer, sitting at the other end of the table, waved back with annoying enthusiasm. Crowley wondered whether he was drunk, and for how long _has_ everyone been there.

Because, now that he mentioned it, what the ever-loving fuck was even _going on_?

What he found was about as far as from what he’d _expected_ to find as an angel from a bird, for sure. They had wings and could become real bastards when it came to protecting what they prized beyond measure, but that was where the similarities ended.

There was a table. Obviously. A large, white table. With about thirty chairs positioned around it in all manner of order or disorder, which rather depended on whether said chair currently belonged to a demon, angel, or human. Because there were many of each kind[12].

On the table were jugs of drinks and heaps of food, both Heavenly and Earthly by the looks of it. Also pieces of paper, what seemed to be CAH cards, a leather jacket, a demonic knife, some cigarettes, and Beelzebub’s fly hat. And Mazikeen’s feet. Which the angels allowed to happen, somehow.

The unmistakable whiff of cannabis in the air told him it was probably the cigarettes.

‘I think we might as well go take a seat then,’ Aziraphale said, and brought Crowley back to reality.

Shooting a nod of approval at no one in particular, Crowley forced his legs to work. He’s been standing on the same spot on the floor the entire time.

He found the only unoccupied chairs between one of the Disposable Triplets—might have been Eric, or maybe Aric, one could never tell who was who with those three—and Sabriel the Archangel of Miracles, who has always been an obnoxious stickler, as far as Crowley remembered. And they were opposite Mazikeen and Amenadiel. Oh _great_.

But they had roles to play, reputations to preserve, siblings to embarrass, corporations to cool down. There was no backing out now.

‘I’m gonna pour me some of that—what is that?’ He snapped his fingers in the direction of a jug of something yellow and sparkly.

‘Distilled Antimatter laced with Starlight,’ said Lucifer, raising a glass of the drink in his hand and kicking all of it back. ‘You don’t want to have that on an empty stomach.’

‘Ooof,’ Aziraphale scrunched up his nose in healthy respect of the thing. He took the seat next to Sabriel and reached for a perfectly normal, English-looking biscuit. ‘You really don’t. I can’t remember when I last tried some, but…’ he trailed off. Crowley was mildly intrigued. ‘Anyway, what’s on?’

‘ _Up_ , what’s _up_ , angel.’ Crowley shook his head at him.

He spread himself over the other chair and surveyed the contents of the table. In the end, he miracled himself a glass of wine, all the way from Beelzebub’s end. He really didn’t want to ask anyone from _that_ side to pass it on. There was Dagon, and Gabriel, and Michael, and Death herself, and—he was glad to sit near Lucifer, actually.

Ella, sitting on the opposite side, leant forward and shouted over the conversation going on on the Unpleasant End, ‘So we’re playing like a hardcore version of Truth or Dare, it’s got these really complicated rules that I don’t even get—’

‘Let’s just say that when you lie or don’t fulfil your dare, you don’t just drink,’ Maze grinned at him, and Crowley could tell he was beginning to look a bit terrified. She reached for her blade and gave it a spin.

‘Right.’ He downed his wine and popped a biscuit into his mouth. He practically swallowed it whole. This was a Hell’s game; one he was more familiar with than he’d care to be. But, ‘Bring it on!’

That caught the attention of the Unpleasant End, and the conversation broke to a halt. Belphegor blew out a cloud of smoke and blinked. It _was_ him, Crowley gathered, but in a new body. A bit more youthful.

‘What, what are you lot staring at?’ His glass refilled itself. For as loud as everyone had been before, they were menacingly quiet _now_. ‘Look, I know we’ve got history, but just,’ he continued, making a circular motion with his wine, ‘look at yourselves. I’ve been here for a minute and I know enough to say that _this_ is the biggest fucking concentration of hypocrisy in one place. Archangels and humans and Dukes of Hell, all hooked on Games and Chill[13]? You’ve really outdone yourselves. Well done, guys. Well done.’

He put the glass down and clapped slowly. A crooked, self-satisfied smile played at his lips. He has caught everyone—well, maybe not the humans, who were in this one quite innocently—red-handed.

‘But I meant what I said in the bath[14]—and I have a feeling that tonight, you’re about to find out. So why don’t we turn up the music? Who’s on?!’

He clapped his hands one more time. Out of thin air, music began to play. Half of the occupants of the Lobby groaned in exasperation. It was ABBA.

‘No one,’ Lucifer said. ‘Castiel just did his turn. So why don’t you assume the task, hmm?’ He cocked his head as a way of pointing at the demonic knife in the middle of the table, right between a bowl of cheese puffs and watermelon balls.

‘‘K!’ Crowley got up and rubbed his hands together. He blew at the knife. It began spinning around.

It landed on Michael. He grinned.

‘Dare,’ he said. This was one of the alterations to the classic rules. Michael was sitting on his side of the table, four seats over, so he had to crane his neck to look at the Archangel, but oh, the sour, thin-lipped smile was worth it.

‘Should I be cruel?’ he mused. Aziraphale glanced at him with worry in his blue eyes. So did Chloe and a couple of other alarmed faces. But he made up his mind. ‘Yeah, you’re a wanker and tried to kill us, so I’m gonna be cruel.’

He took a deep breath he didn’t technically need to take and through another smug-as-Hell grin, he said, ‘I Dare you to kiss your wife in front of everyone.’

There was a wave of gasps from those who knew. A shocked cough from Dagon. An eyebrow on the way to the moon from Gabriel. Different varieties of “Michael has a wife?”, “that’s not cruel!”, and “bless, that’s _savage_ ”.

‘No,’ said Michael.

This provoked another series of gasps.

‘It’s a Dare, Michael,’ said Gabriel in a sort of hazy automated-response way that made Crowley contemplate whether he’d had some of the Devil’s lettuce too, ‘you have to. You know the rules[15].’

‘You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to play,’ Amenadiel pointed out. He took a sip of beer. Michael stared at him accusingly, being his younger sibling and having been subjected to his comments for long enough. Crowley knew _exactly_ what that felt like; it was, too, a thing you couldn’t Forget.

There was silence.

Until Linda asked, ‘Okay, but why is everyone like,’ she gestured at them, being somewhat inebriated herself, ‘that? Why wouldn’t she kiss her wife?’

Crowley turned to her. ‘She’s a Fallen.’ Back to Michael. ‘You’ve been in touch the whole time. Isn’t that _right_?’

‘You’re an arsehole,’ she stated.

‘Takes one to know one.’

This was step one of his Revenge Plan. It most certainly had nothing to do with pushing them back together and Heaven and Hell closer or anything of the sort. Don’t be stupid.

‘Almighty give me strength,’ Michael said. Crowley could’ve sworn she whispered something like _please, forgive me_. He watched her get up and walk around the table. There was the quiet lull of twenty or so beings talking to each other as they watched, mostly in anticipation of who _was_ the wife, because apparently, she was _in the room_.

She halted in the middle of a group of five demons, who were all staring at her, and tugged her jacket down. ‘Right. I apologise for this.’

‘Well get on with it!’ shouted a snickering Maze. ‘We wanna see some action!’

‘Ten seconds left[16], Michael,’ Crowley sang-song. He was feeling very clever, too, if you must know.

With a minute smile that almost no one noticed, Michael bent down and kissed Dagon right on the lips.

Crowley grinned victoriously and plopped into his chair. He saw the outraged and confused and smirking faces of everyone around the table—most of all Beelzebub, who was glaring at the two of them like ze was the most betrayed person in the history of betrayed people[17], or demons.

Charlie gave them a wolf-whistle. They have long found out from Azrael, Crowley thought, probably thanks to that blasted group chat.

He took many, many pictures.

Dagon looked at him. ‘And what ‘bout my reputation, eh? Have you thought of that?’

‘Nope,’ he said truthfully. ‘And I don’t care. I’m just pointing out here—and correct me if I’m wrong—that you’re one of the demons responsible for that Trial, right? And so is Beelzebub. And yet you’re both all cosy with Archangels. Proved my point yet?’

Beelzebub looked ready to murder him. Again. He snickered because ze _knew_ ze couldn’t do anything to him. What was more, ze _knew_ ze had had to listen to _his_ orders not so long ago. Gabriel, on the other hand, looked distinctly _ashamed_. Good.

‘Crowley!’ Aziraphale chided him.

Upon closer inspection, one would, however, find that he was no less pleased about the development. And a bit stunned. He wasn’t an Archangel; he wouldn’t know. Their lot have never been much for communication with those below them. No, they’d looked down on _him_ for being friendly with _commoners_.

Less so Michael; Dagon had been a lowercase-a archangel Before. For that alone, Crowley would consider her a tad more reasonable than the other two, never mind the fact that she called her sometimes—which Crowley had had the luck to overhear a couple of times and had to nod approvingly at—but she was still dull and condescending and very much a wanker. So.

‘Anyway.’ Crowley sniffled. ‘Pour me that drink now. Michael, it’s your go.’

She turned to go back to her seat. Dagon grabbed her arm and tugged her down into her lap. Locking her eyes with Crowley even through the sunglasses, she said, ‘Secret’s out now, so you might ‘s well stay here.’

Crowley turned to Lucifer, who was offering him the Antimatter drink, to hide from those pale eyes. 

Belphegor offered Michael his joint. He was sitting right next to them. ‘Hey, loosen up a bit. You _really_ look like you need it.’

Dagon grabbed it instead and took a drag. ‘Good stuff,’ she said, blowing out the smoke. _Then_ she passed it to Michael. Who took it. Crowley was amused by this development. The Archangel then actually visibly _relaxed_ and ran her hand through Dagon’s hair, washed and tied in a messy bun on top of her head. She made the knife spin with a snap of her fingers and _kissed_ her demonic wife _again_ [18].

The knife landed on Eve.

‘Truth,’ Michael said. She hesitated for about two seconds before asking her question. ‘Even if he,’ she pointed at Crowley, who snorted because _obviously_ she would, ‘wasn’t there, would you eat the Apple? Would you still be with Lucifer and send humankind on the path it’s on now?’

‘Hmm.’ Eve leant back in her chair, furrowing her brow. She cast a glance at Lucifer.

Ella took in a sharp breath. She and Chloe and Linda looked at each other and sipped at their drinks in unison. Crowley gave his drink a swirl and heeding the warnings, reached for some chocolate chip cookies.

‘I made those,’ said Anathema, for the lack of anything _better_ to say. He opted not to tell her that Aziraphale’s were better—but somehow, the look she gave him told him she _knew_.

‘Adam and I,’ Eve said, ‘we weren’t actually very good together, to be honest. I was—well, I was jealous. Of Lilith.’ She looked at her, too. And wasn’t it neat? She was dating her daughter now, and repeating the very same thing Lilith had been condemned for, once. ‘Even before I knew what Jealousy was. I think that sooner or later, I’d eat that apple just to spite him,’ she laughed. ‘And seeing as Lucifer paraded around the Garden almost every day, it would be impossible not to notice him eventually.’

‘Thankssss, Eve, now everyone here knows how useless I am!’ Crowley made a point of frowning at the real culprit of an Archangel here, too. Though he wouldn’t admit it to himself, or anyone, his plan was beginning to Fail.

Well, there was always Gabriel, and the night was still young.

‘We already knew that,’ Beelzebub chimed in. ‘We checked on the paperwork after Armageddon didn’t happen.’

And— _what_? 

‘Aziraphale’s too,’ Gabriel added smugly. The angel in question paled and laughed nervously. Gabriel then gestured between Beelzebub and himself with a somewhat shaky hand. ‘We know that you’ve been lying to Head Office for centuries.’

‘It’s not exzzactly subtle when you look more closely.’

‘‘Course they gotta finish their sentences,’ Crowley grumbled into the cup of glowing yellow liquid. He smelt it. It was sharp and sweet and spicy at the same time, somehow, and he finally kicked it back just to get over this interaction and calm his panicking heart down.

That was not a good idea. He broke into a fit of cough. Aziraphale patted his back with the words, ‘Lucifer did warn you, my dear.’

That he did. But bless, the drink was _good_.

Dagon gave him a terrifying toothy grin, fully supporting her wife in thinking that he got what was coming for him. He could see that one. But he didn’t see her saying, ‘Yeah, _they’re_ not subtle about that either.’

Right. He forgot about the celestial super-hearing thing.

Belphegor pointed at the two of them with the stub of his joint. ‘I mean, I _am_ getting a bit of a married-couple vibe there? No offence or anything though.’

‘Well, they _were_ an i—’ Azrael began, but Michael cleared her throat and cut her off[19], ‘Pardon me, but I was actually asking a serious question here.’

She didn’t look all that serious, positioned in a demon’s lap. But details, eh?

‘Yes, yes!’ Lucifer shouted over the plethora of different noises coming from all sides. ‘Everything we thought we knew was a great celestial scam, we get it! Can we move on?’

‘I’m just getting more confused,’ Zari looked between the two ends of the table, scooting closer to Charlie for support. Crowley wasn’t sure how much she knew[20], so he could sympathise. Newt took to stuffing himself with watermelon and Anathema was measuring everyone with the kind of look that suggested aura-reading.

It was a good thing Adam was too young[21] to be there.

Castiel said, ‘Hold on, the Archangel Gabriel and Lord Beelzebub are…?’

‘Yeah, dummy!’ Maze shouted and threw some cheese puffs his way. They landed in Zadkiel and Haniel’s drinks. The angels miracled them gone. ‘You didn’t get that when Beelzebub—’

‘Silenzzzze!’ Beelzebub stood and pushed zir chair back with a loud screech. Everyone shut up whether they wanted to or not. Ze was in an advantage: sitting at the head of the table, ze towered over everyone even with zir height. ‘Great. Gabriel, pass me that wine.’

‘You can get it yours—’

When ze gave him the absolute winner between Unimpressed Looks, he shut up and gave zir the bottle ze had earlier placed in front of him. Ze chugged about a half of it and sat back down. Ze put zir feet up on the edge of Gabriel’s chair.

Lucifer threw his hands up. ‘Right, I think there’s been enough of this, so why don’t we play a round of Cards Against Divinity now? I’ve been _dying_ to settle the score between Michael and me.’

‘Having issues, are we?’ she asked him, and right at that moment, her polite smile reminded Crowley of Aziraphale whenever a customer intent on buying something entered the bookshop. Absolutely ruthless.

Lucifer didn’t deign her with an answer and gave everyone ten white cards with a thought. It must have been serious when he resorted to miracles.

Gabriel asked, ‘Okay, what are the rules[22]?’ He picked up his cards and turned them the wrong way round.

‘Ah, yes, I wanted to ask the same question,’ said Aziraphale, sending a Cold Look Gabriel’s way.

‘Don’t show your cards to anyone for starterzz.’ Beelzebub kicked Gabriel in the thigh. He fixed his mistake, which Crowley watched through the camera app on his mobile.

‘So a person called Card Tsar picks a random black card and reads it,’ said Castiel. ‘You have to choose one of your cards to complete the sentence or answer the question. But I’ve learnt that rather than accuracy, it’s about humour.’

‘Dirty humour,’ Belphegor added. ‘Angels vs demons. You up for that?’

He grimaced. First offended, then contemplative, then triumphant. ‘I’m an expert.’

Crowley wasn’t sure that this was the case, right now. He miracled the iPhone to film everything by itself and float around the table as necessary. Aziraphale startled when it flew in front of his face. ~~It was adorable.~~

‘Also we keep all the cards and play till we’re out, then we get another ten,’ supplied Charlie. This was useful information; everyone played this game by different rules, if Crowley has ever learnt anything. Because no—he didn’t invent it. It _was_ originally called Cards Against _Humanity_.

Chloe leant forward to look at that side of the table and asked, raising a doubtful eyebrow, ‘Can we even play this version? I mean, will we understand what’s going on with the jokes?’

‘Lucifer made it, so I think you will,’ Maze said. She inspected her cards with a dangerous gleam in her eyes. ‘It’s not _that_ different from the one we played on Tribe Night once.’

Crowley, well. He only had one more question. He nudged one of the Triplets, who were having their own conversation next to him. ‘What exactly does the scoreboard look like?’ he asked Eric or actually, ‘Which one are you?’

‘Aric,’ the demon said, and produced a tablet out of thin air. He showed Crowley the MS Excel spreadsheet, titled “CAD Total Win Score 1948-Present”:

  1. Azrael, 126 wins[23]
  2. Dantalion, 63 wins
  3. Michael, 58 wins
  4. Lucifer, 57 wins
  5. Lilith, 31 wins
  6. Belphegor, 22 wins
  7. Muriel, 13 wins
  8. Sachael[24], 10 wins
  9. Mazikeen, 8 wins
  10. Trevor, 7 wins
  11. Castiel, 5 wins
  12. Vince, 5 wins



There were more, but they had under five wins and therefore were divided from this group by a thick red line. The total number of games played so far was 423. Crowley’s eyebrows rose as the corners of his mouth dropped; an impossible grimace, really, unless you were him. He showed it to Aziraphale too, and then handed the tablet back.

He made it his personal goal to make it into the top twelve. He had to better at this than—than _Vince_ [25], for Elvis’ sake!

‘So how often do you do this?’

‘Every last Friday of every odd month unless there’s a crisis somewhere, or too many souls coming in, or the cards were eaten by a Hellhound,’ said Aric. Crowley didn’t ask how many times that happened. He’d rather not know.

Lucifer proclaimed himself Card Tsar and grabbed a black card from the top of a now-neatly assembled pack. ‘ _Statistics claim that 32% angels secretly enjoy_ —blank.’

Crowley didn’t win this one. It was, to everybody’s surprise, Ella with her _Demon food porn_. The surprise wasn’t in that statement. It was Lucifer we were talking about. It was the fact that a human chose this one and won right away.

Gabriel and Aziraphale alike felt called out. Crowley could tell. He patted his angel on the back and said, ‘It’s not _my_ fault that your angel food cake is so outrageously good. _Statistics_ , angel.’

Aziraphale was _this_ close to choking on his rosé.

Chloe and the rest of the Human Gang became more confident after this, and scared half the angels with the way they high-fived each other and drank in celebration. Aric assigned them a single line on the spreadsheet: _53\. A Team of Humans_.

Crowley was 54, Aziraphale was 55, and Gabriel was 56. It was the most satisfying feeling in the Universe, right now at this very minute.

Lilith picked up and read the next card: ‘ _What is Hell but a dump of_ blank _and_ blank?’

Crowley won fair and square with _Mummy issues_ and _A bold fashion statement_.

What luck that he had the precise cards, wouldn’t you say?

* * *

1 Despite the popular opinion, Hell was mostly dark and damp, not _hot_. The only hot parts were the lava and the sea of boiling sulphur. And some fire now and then.[✿]

2 Or toe to head, as it were.[✿]

3 Procured earlier this month upon Crowley’s insistence that a striped suit from Satan-knows-how-long-ago was just too embarrassing even when there weren’t any people around. Needless to say, the demon was shocked beyond measure to find out he’s actually _listened_ for once. It was mostly about the fact that the shorts were more comfortable, you know, not to indulge him or anything.[✿]

4 This was actually a phrase from Hell. Hastur loved setting things on fire and hated liars (look, Hell was complicated, surely you get that by now), so whenever he suspected someone wasn’t honest about the cause of this or that problem, he set someone’s trousers on fire. The pants caught on fire too, obviously—and if the demon favoured the Americans and called trousers _pants_ , it was all the same—and soon it became a meme so popular among the demons it spread to Earth.[✿]

5 Charlie’s human, Muslim-American, from-the-future girlfriend. ~~At least in this universe—canon isn’t so keen on indulging us (yet).~~ She actually had a dragon too, acquired via time travel. So, you know, the fact that she was dating a demon wasn’t even that odd, considering.[✿]

6 This was one of those moments where both immensely powerful celestial beings happened to be quite stupid and failed to realise that while this might not have been a long-term solution, installing an air-conditioner, or at least miracling the air to stay at a nice 22°C, _was_.[✿]

7 He didn’t miracle the sand away when sitting down solely to agitate Aziraphale. 6000-year-old habits died hard.[✿]

8 But then again, he had been there when they were invented, and didn’t necessarily need to subject to them if he didn’t want to.[✿]

9 But not the besotted sort of half-smile.[✿]

10 Immortals viewed time somewhat differently. We have explained this before, haven’t we? What was a year for them could as well be an hour for humans. Or one night, in this case.[✿]

11Another expression from Hell. Rather self-explanatory.[✿]

12 Since Crowley wasn’t going to name them all in his head, we will do this for him. Enter the longest bloody footnote in the history of footnotes!

As of this moment, participants from the side of the Angels included:

  1. Amenadiel
  2. Aziraphale
  3. Azrael—in their girl-in-cat-jumper form, not the cryptic-skeleton-man form
  4. Castiel—a Seraph who always loved to sing and watch the Earth, but was forced to fight; in this Universe, he has never met the Winchesters but was basically the same angel and, coincidentally, had a corporation that looked _exactly_ like Jimmy Novak
  5. Gabriel
  6. Haniel—leader of the Principalities and Earth Agent for the Americas; she has never much liked Aziraphale, but she _did_ like Earth and humans, especially the past civilisations of South America she had been saddened to see go, and went out for a coffee with Amenadiel sometimes
  7. Lucifer
  8. Michael
  9. Muriel—the stairwell clerk on shift this week; she loved sandwiches and 90s pop music, and finally felt included in something when these little parties began
  10. Nanael—a Principality and Earth Agent for Asia; they invented noodles and loved to consume them, and they have bonded with Aziraphale over sushi in Kyoto in 1986
  11. Sabriel—an archangel who oversaw the Miracle Paperwork and needed a break more than anyone
  12. Zadkiel—archangel of freedom and mercy; he was very good at keeping the games flowing and breaking up arguments between angels and demons when they inevitably occurred.



Participants from the side of the Demons included:

  1. Belphegor—a Fallen who used to work under Maze before she left; he was one of the few who possessed a sense of humour and only did their job because it was their blessed job and looked forward to being able to clock out
  2. Beelzebub
  3. Crowley
  4. Dagon
  5. Dantalion, aka D or Charlie
  6. two of the Disposable Triplets—the third one being discorporated earlier
  7. Lilith—she was always the best at innuendos and had the fifth-highest score at CAD, and she always seemed to be reading a fashion magazine instead of working, but you wouldn’t blame her if you had as many children as her; she was also the only demon who cared about her looks and always looked her best: she had a reputation to preserve, after all
  8. Mazikeen
  9. Trevor—another Torturer Hellion; being a fan of Gordon Ramsay and dabbling in the culinary arts, he brought most of the food, but don’t let that, or his generally nice face, fool you
  10. Vince, short for Vincerion—just as Muriel, he was the stairwell clerk for the week, and very pleased about being able to play with the bosses.



Participants from the side of the Humans, which was a) invited by Lucifer and b) significantly outnumbered and loud about it, included:

  1. Anathema
  2. Chloe
  3. Ella
  4. Eve
  5. Linda
  6. Newton
  7. Zari.[✿]



13 Before you ask, Crowley was _very well_ aware of what _that_ was a euphemism for. He twisted it a little, sure, but he stood by his words.[✿]

14 Or what _Aziraphale_ had said in the bath. He had it written down, just as Aziraphale had his words written down for keeping up appearances when necessary.[✿]

15 He has been Dared to try the Antimatter drink, and has _done so_. He wasn’t fucking _weak_ , no matter what Lucifer might have _thought_. But no, he didn’t smoke any of _that_.[✿]

16 This was another Rule: 60 seconds, and then there were Consequences.[✿]

17 Because zir friend, _zir only friend_ , forgot to mention that she too was _fraternising_. After ze specifically spilt zir black soul to her about bloody Gabriel! Satanblessit, it could have been a conversation topic for Friday Drinking Night, but no, Dagon had to be Like That.[✿]

18 Crowley? Check. Gabriel? Check. Michael? Check. Oh, now _nicely_ the Plan was working out, God thought. Uriel would be a tough one, though… Well, perhaps it was time to focus on someone other than Her firstborn now.[✿]

19 The fact that they had been _an item_ wasn’t exactly common knowledge either. Not anymore. If Crowley were being honest, he’d say he wasn’t sure if Beelzebub zirself Remembered that. God hadn’t actually _erased_ anyone’s memories, but most Fallen didn’t Remember all that much from Before. Most Fallen weren’t Archangels.

(Beelzebub was _starting_ to Remember more and more, these days.)[✿]

20 She knew about angels, demons, magic, the whole shebang. She has seen Charlie’s wings, too, and Lucifer’s powers in full action. But the story of the Apocalypse or what had really happened in Eden was yet to be told.[✿]

21 Pun unintended.[✿]

22 He was new to this too.[✿]

23 That was, in total, not individual wins for individual rounds. That would have been too chaotic. They usually played around 30 rounds, so someone always came out on top with four or more wins, leaving everyone clearly behind and getting a point. And if there was a tie, they played long enough for one being to win.

This was the first time they played with 30 people. They would have to up the number of rounds today, for sure, because it might as well end up with everyone winning precisely one round, however small the probability was... Good thing there were individuals who could play around with Time.[✿]

24 The other angelic stairwell clerk. He didn’t have a shift here this week, but he was on lift-guarding duty at the top for a change. Tapped onto the spaceship-AI broadcast, he was currently watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine with all those demons in the Auditorium and about a third of the human souls of Heaven. It _was_ Friday, after all.[✿]

25 It wasn’t about being better than Vince, though. It was about being better than Azrael, or D, or Michael, or Lucifer enough times for it to mean something. [✿]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk to what extent you're familiar with the cameos i used here so here are some pictures: [castiel (spn)](https://cdn.costumewall.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/castiel.jpg), [belphegor (spn)](https://633987.smushcdn.com/907311/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/Supernatural-7-S15-E1.jpg?lossy=1&strip=1&webp=1), [lilith (shadowhunters)](https://pmchollywoodlife.files.wordpress.com/2018/05/shadowhunters-interview-ftr.jpg?w=620), [charlie (lot)](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c3/cd/5a/c3cd5aa412ede98f488339266945fab4.jpg), [zari (lot)](https://hips.hearstapps.com/hmg-prod.s3.amazonaws.com/images/tale-ashe-as-zari-dc-legends-of-tomorrow-1558442275.jpg?crop=1xw:1xh;center,top&resize=480:*), [trevor (tgp)](https://pmctvline2.files.wordpress.com/2018/10/the-good-place-trevor-adam-scott.png?w=620). yeah, they're literally the same people with the same corporations, i don't make the rules (ok maybe i do). the rest are made up/taken from the mythology.
> 
> well, belphegor is supposed to be a prince and the personification of sloth, but i assigned that position to belial (see it? turtle?), who's normally not a prince. supernatural says belphegor's a hell-demon and a torturer, and i found somewhere that he's supposed to be a fallen principality, so that's what he is here: a mix of that. just a random fallen angel working under maze. but hey, it's fiction for a reason, and it's not like he's important. this is just an insight into my canon-blending skills lmao


	23. in which there's a party bus and a spa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic's word count low-key terrifies me :) honestly, when did i become one of those crazy writers who churn out novel-length fanfiction in short periods of time, and whom i always admired and never understood? because this is fewer than 1k words away from being the same length as the good omens book and we still have three chapters left :) and it's only my third-longest fic :) 
> 
> i was right about splitting this, too. this chapter has 8.1k words. 8109. i don't like this. but it happened...
> 
> speaking of—thank you for reading! i honestly didn't think this would gain so much popularity when i started. but it did, somehow. i'm glad you appreciate my humour and this basically plotless fic! so kudos for YOU if you made it all the way here despite that word count, especially if you joined the ride somewhere in the middle. ily ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

**Messenger**  
**Anathema, Carmen, Mary-Louise**  
 **30 Jul at 4:24 pm**

**Carmen  
**so we’ve landed at LAX

FINALLY

where to now, Anathema???

 **You**  
there should be a driver waiting  
for u, a white prius

he’ll take u all the way to the  
house

 **Carmen  
**damn I could get used to this

 **You**  
well, you’ll have to share with  
Newt’s mom and best man, they  
were on the same plane[1]

we couldn’t figure out better  
logistics

 **Carmen  
**even so!

 **Mary-Louise**  
But gosh everything here is so  
big

I get lost at HEATHROW lol

 **You  
**Newt said the same thing 😄

so I take it u survived the flight  
in one piece?

 **Carmen**  
I was crammed b/w Mary and  
this snoring old lady the whole  
bloody time

I think I listened to my entire  
music library at least 3 times

 **You**  
I told u I could get u first class  
tickets!

 **Mary-Louise**  
No, you shouldn’t pay for us  
when it’s your wedding!

 **Carmen  
**u were asleep

u don’t know my pain

 **Mary-Louise  
**We agreed

 **Carmen  
**yeah I know…

anyway we found the car 🤩🤩

I don’t think I’m gonna be able  
to drive my ol mini after THIS  
experience

 **Mary-Louise  
**I want to be rich

 **Carmen  
**no student loans for one

 **Mary-Louise  
**YEAH

So how many people did u say  
were coming, Ana?

 **You  
**8 + the three of us

I told u about Ella, right?

she organized the whole thing  
and guess what we’re getting

 **Carmen  
**WHAT

 **Mary-Louise  
**????

Please say hot male strippers

 **Carmen  
*****and female too pls

 **You  
**hah, no

at least idk about any 😅

usually it’s a surprise, u know

 **Mary-Louise  
**I’m still hopeful then :)))

 **Carmen  
**what then 👀

 **You  
**A PARTY BUS!

it’ll come right to the house and  
then go to LA to pick up the  
others and drop Newt and Matt  
off at Lux

 **Carmen**  
AND THE LAST DAY OF  
ANA’S LIFE AS A SINGLE  
WOMAN CAN BEGIN

 **Mary-Louise**  
I already know this’ll be the best  
hen do in history

•

**the devil and his prada gang**

**witchbitch:** this is a WARNING that I need y’all to take SERIOUSLY: there’ll be HUMANS who have NO IDEA at both parties so PLEASE try and limit the celestial hijinks to ZERO

 **witchbitch:** I know this might be hard (I’m looking @ you Crowley & Lucifer) but please TRY

 **dabestdemon:** we could always erase their memories

 **newtthenewt:** Please no

 **thedevil:** why me? I’m not the one having trouble _blending in_

 **thedevil:** @angelicego yes this was a jab at you

 **angelicego:** Hey! I’m good at passing as human! And I’m not going to your stupid party anyway.

 **lordofflies:** loser

 **lordofflies:** passing up an opportunity to get excellently drunk like this

 **witchbitch:** the goal isn’t to get drunk here!!!!

 **awesomestCSI:** it’s about bonding!!!!

 **thedetective:** and compensating for my ruined party last year, you can say it

 **awesomestCSI:** and that

 **dabestdemon:** wait beelzy is coming to this?? nooo

 **dabestdemon:** not to ours

 **awesomestCSI:** yes to ours :) all honorary girls go to ours :)

 **witchbitch:** so I get all the demons

 **witchbitch:** and Newt gets all the angels

 **witchbitch:** is that right

 **gayngel:** Ahh, actually, yes. Sorry, dear girl.

 **witchbitch:** in that case I will repeat that MY. FRIENDS. HAVE. NO. CLUE. AND. WE. WANT. IT. TO. STAY. THAT. WAY.

 **dabestdemon:** oi theres no need to yell

 **mazikeen:** relax

 **witchbitch:** u say this and then you’ll end up starting an insult contest and pulling out your wings again

 **lordofflies:** that was the bloody angels fault

 **angelicego:** I’m never playing again.

 **gayngel:** Good.

 **thedevil:** so, michael and dagon. I’m still #shook

 **lordofflies:** this is why I fucking need another drink

• 

Before everyone went off to join their respective stag do or hen do[2], they gathered at LUX.

This wasn’t unusual, as it was Lucifer who has organised Newt’s stag do and insisted they do it there: it was LA’s sought-after venue for such events, with all the dancers and alcohol available, and what would be the point in knowing him, otherwise?

No, but the company was.

Though, Crowley supposed, it couldn’t get marginally worse than Last Friday Night[3]. Which was saying something, given that the attending group included Shadwell[4].

What had happened on Friday, you ask?

What Crowley wanted to say was _don’t ask_. But you did anyway. So he might as well kick back a shot of Patrón and tell you that after Lucifer had successfully managed to settle the score between Michael and him to a draw, Gabriel had made the mistake of accusing him of cheating.

There was a good chance that he had been in the right. But that was irrelevant.

Being drunk, high, or both of the above, the angels and demons present had immediately got into a squabble about Various Stupid Things, which had then developed into a wing-measuring contest and, yes, an insult contest. Initiated by none other than the demon Trevor.

It had been a Mess, because angels and demons had completely different ideas concerning insults and compliments, and the humans had been all but Confused.

This had still been in good fun. The bottle thrown after An Unnamed Angel had taken things too personally less so. At this point, the humans had luckily retreated and gone home, because it was about 1 a.m. in LA and unlike the remaining entities, they needed sleep to function. The Almighty knows what would have happened if they hadn’t.

Aziraphale had been horrified. Crowley hadn’t blamed him. He had tried to stay away from the brewing conflict. Needless to say, he had seen that coming and had pointed out so, given that all the stuff he had smoked had lowered his brain-to-mouth filter[5] to absolute zero.

In retrospect, that had been a mistake.

A fight had broken out. And there had been a _lot_ of pent-up frustration. And yelling.

Mostly between the currently-demoted Archangel Gabriel and recently-reinstated Prince Beelzebub, who had been all about blaming each other’s teams and incompetence thereof—despite said teams being in Lucifer and Michael’s charge, respectively.

That had been until Gabriel had had Beelzebub against a wall and started snogging zir instead.

Crowley’s face had broken in a disgusted grimace, because he had seen a little too much and come to the horrific inference that this was their game, and, _ugh_. He had suggested to Aziraphale that they should leave before someone attacked _them_.

He had ended up against a wall too, later. But that _wasn’t_ what you should focus on, and he won’t go into further details, shut up. The point was: a good portion of Heaven and Hell were back to not being on Good Speaking Terms right now, if they ever had any.

Well, he supposed they did, somewhere behind his back. Outrageous. He loved it. He’ll assuredly go to the next game night, and this time he’ll _win_.

But, yeah, things were a bit tense[6]. And in the middle of that, there was a _wedding_.

Which brings us back to LUX.

The club wouldn’t open to the general public for another twenty minutes, so besides the staff, there were only three angels, three demons, and six humans inside, waiting for a party bus to arrive and mostly piled around the bar. Lucifer and Chloe were re-enacting _Love Of My Life_ on the piano, more him than her. Crowley had to admit that they weren’t bad.

And that he was surprised to hear the Devil play soft tunes on the piano in the first place. You didn’t get this kind of music in Hell; the realm was an endless cacophony of screams and screeches and rattling. This was—this was just _Queen_. Where has he _learnt_ [7]?

Or at least, you hadn’t got this kind of music in Hell before Crowley suggested you _should_. Lucifer told him all about the concerts. He was delighted—but still not enough to pop Downstairs and visit one.

‘Amazing, aren’t they?’ said someone next to him that wasn’t Aziraphale. Crowley slowly turned his head to find Ella Lopez slouching against the counter, a bottle of beer in her hand. ‘Gah, really makes my single-ass heart weep.’

‘I wouldn’t describe Lucifer as amazing,’ Crowley said, grimacing. ‘Or adorable, or whatever you’re thinking right now.’

But the love, a wholly different kind from the thick, warm, sticky love he felt around Aziraphale, was there. He loved the club, the piano, his humans, _the_ single human next to him. It made Crowley want to vomit.

He waved for the bartender to refill his glass. Being a demon, he could drink as much as he liked and always sober up later, and this event would require a _lot_ of drinking. Don’t get him wrong, he liked Anathema and chaotic parties, but it would all be much more splendid without a Prince of Hell lurking nearby and some friends of Anathema’s he had to watch his mouth around. 

‘Oh my God,’ Ella said. Crowley didn’t flinch. ‘What was it _like_ , working under him?’ She took a sip of beer and continued to gaze at the couple at the piano. ‘I mean, I know he’s the literal Devil—which I still think is _crazy_ —but I don’t have to tell _you_ , am I right? I want some deets!’

‘Errrrrrr, I mean…’ He cast a furtive glance towards Aziraphale, who was, unfortunately, absorbed in a conversation with Linda. ‘Well, he’s the _Devil_. Obviously. Didn’t see much of him Down There, and that was a _good thing_. You didn’t want to be in his bad graces. So to speak.’

‘It’s just, I know he can be terrifying sometimes, but I can’t imagine…’ She absently fingered the cross hanging around her neck. Crowley’s noticed it before; a real absurdity if you asked him, someone who _knew_ what was really up wearing one. ‘Anyway. Did you notice how weird Amenadiel was around Maze and Beelzebub or is that just me? And is Lucifer avoiding them?’

He still wasn’t entirely sure what the Lord of Flies was doing there[8], precisely. He didn’t want to ask and get himself discorporated after becoming too closely acquainted with the remains of a broken whisky bottle, though, so there was that.

‘Possibly. I know _I’m_ avoiding them,’ Crowley snorted. He drank more tequila: neat, without any limes or salt.

‘That bad, huh?’ Ella shook her head and blew a raspberry. Her eyes wandered off somewhere distant. ‘I wish I stayed till the end.’

Crowley didn’t know what to say to that. _Be glad you didn’t? Next time?_ Would there even _be_ a next time? He hoped there would, because if there wasn’t, he couldn’t win the game. Obviously.

He wasn’t so sure about them, though.

Not after he’d sent them the videos, anyway.

He gave her a noncommittal _hmm_ and used his legs to spin around on the barstool.

The bride and groom-to-be arrived in the club shortly after, together with the thump of bass beats coming from the bus outside and three unfamiliar, unremarkable humans who Crowley deduced must have been the uni friends, aka the bridesmaids and groomsman[9]. 

There was Matt, a normal sort of brown-haired bloke from Dorking who has been working in an office nine-to-five ever since he got his bachelor’s degree in economics and communicated with his secondary school best friend mostly via e-mail[10].

Then there were the girls. One dark-skinned, wearing retro glasses and linen overalls and short-trimmed hair, and one as pasty as they got, with long, flowy blonde hair and freckles and dressed in a floral dress. She looked like a Mary-Louise. Also like a vegan with a boring taste in hobbies that even good plant-caretaking habits couldn’t surpass. He immediately liked the other one—must be Carmen, a good name—better. She seemed like the type interested in vinyls and reusable materials who didn’t mind a good party and had an unparalleled taste in women[11].

Ella pulled away from the bar and scurried their way. Lucifer stopped playing. Probably because he finished the song. Ella wrapped Anathema and then Newt, who was very much caught off guard, in a bear hug, yelling, ‘You’re here!’

Then she proceeded to hug the newcomers too, because that was what she _did_. Crowley has been subjected to her hugs twice already. It was overwhelming, but sort of Nice. She said, ‘Hi, I’m Ella, bridesmaid number three! It’s so great to meet you guys!’

Crowley rolled his eyes. The humans introduced themselves and looked around, then chose not to ask questions this early into the night, which was a wise choice, seeing as Mazikeen was openly playing with her blade again and scrutinising them with her sharp gaze.

‘It’s lovely that we get to meet some of their friends, don’t you think?’ asked Aziraphale, looking the exact opposite of what he looked like when a customer happened to enter his bookshop. Crowley hummed again. Aziraphale generally was under the impression that all humans except for customers and all those shady men who wanted to buy his shop were _lovely._

Crowley nearly rolled his eyes again. Not that anyone would see under the sunglasses. ‘For my money, it’s gonna bring trouble,’ he said eventually. ‘With so many occult—and ethereal—beings around, it can be nothing _but_. You saw what happened last week.’

‘That wasn’t the humans’ fault!’

‘No, but they didn’t help it either. And they _knew_ the company they were in.’

As far as Crowley remembered, there would be 36 people at the wedding, only four of whom[12] were unaware of the existence of the supernatural. Look, he usually was an optimist—but that was _begging_ for a catastrophe to crop up. Especially now.

Aziraphale sighed and gazed into the glass of dry white he’s been nursing. _I know you’re right, Crowley, but I won’t be caught dead admitting it_ , that gesture said. What actually came out of his mouth when he directed his attention back to him was, ‘Have a bit of faith, Crowley.’

He got a Terribly Unimpressed Look for that. He pointedly focused on the newcomers.

‘Right, so,’ said Ella, bringing her hands together. She was standing next to the piano. ‘As the main organiser here, I believe it’s time to say goodbye and leave the guys to it. We have a tour to complete!’

‘A tour? No one said anything about a tour,’ Anathema said, while Eve and Linda cheered loudly. 

‘I mean, it _is_ kinda supposed to be a surprise. Don’t worry; I won’t go all Boyle on you,’ she laughed and looked at Carmen and Mary-Louise, and then at Tracy, ‘but since we have guests all the way from England here, I thought we could do something a bit extra. So who’s ready?!’

Everyone seemed to agree.

‘I’ll be off then,’ Crowley told Aziraphale. He reached behind himself and put the glass onto the counter. ‘Enjoy your boring little angelic party.’

‘It won’t be boring. We’re staying _here_. If anything, it’s going to be terribly loud,’ he replied, furrowing his brow at the notion. He wasn’t keen on nightclubs. The last time he’d been to one—at least with Crowley—was, what, in the seventies? Either way, it hadn’t been far from the Soho bookshop, and he had definitively declared himself not a fan.

‘Yeah, sorry, that’s Lucifer for you. Though I don’t know what’s worse, that or having _Beelzebub_ and _Mazikeen_ around all night.’ Crowley swung down from his chair. He didn’t even feel the tequila yet. ‘Anyway. See ya later, angel.’

He gave him an awkward wave and made no move to leave.

‘You know, you _can_ kiss me in front of people, my dear. Let there be a war if it must.’

Crowley’s brain turned into an equivalent of the keyboard smash. His mouth allowed a momentary smirk, and his hand cupped Aziraphale’s chin. He pressed a kiss to his lips. ‘You’re such a bad influence on me.’

‘I think you meant to say _good_?’ Aziraphale said with a delighted sort of micro-smirk that rivalled Crowley’s own. He _knew_ what he was doing and did it on purpose. Sometimes, he was a truly unpredictable, inexplicable creature.

‘No, I meant _bad_ , as bad as they come. Honestly, angel.’ Crowley wet his lips and turned to leave. Not looking back, he said, ‘If Beelzebub starts World War Three it’s _your_ fault.’

He registered Lucifer ushering Chloe out of the club with a smile and the words, ‘Have fun, darling! And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’ The look she gave him said _I love you, but I’m **so** done with you right now_. Aziraphale had given him a fair share of identical ones.

Crowley said in her ear, ‘That list isn’t exactly known for its length, so no need to worry there.’

He slithered out of the door before Lucifer could stop him and talk to him. He had an annoying habit of doing that whenever they were in the same room. Well—at least the phonecalls have discontinued, now that Hell was back in the hands of the Lord of Flies and Lord of… whatever Belial was lord of. Slow animals and afternoon naps[13]?

Chloe and some others followed him. She said, ‘Yeah, just, no. I _don’t_ need to think about that. What I need is a nice evening with the Tribe and—and the rest of you guys, preferably without any celestial nonsense and crazy sex parties.’

That, he could agree with. He beckoned for her to hop on the party bus first. Ella was already waiting for them inside, sporting a toothy grin that matched the dinosaur on her t-shirt. The bus was bigger than it originally seemed from the outside, lit by blue and pink strip lights, with black-leather sofas lining both sides and minibars in the middle. At the front was a telly that begged for a miracle involving embarrassing photos from everyone’s phones. There were poles, too. Something for the others to show off on, Crowley thought, and plopped onto the nearest available surface. 

It actually _was_ a sofa, to his surprise.

Once everyone sat down and accepted a drink, Ella turned the TV on. There was a picture of Anathema and Newt in a cheesy heart frame. Maze snorted and said, ‘What, no matching t-shirts this time, Ellen?’

And yeah, Crowley _has_ heard something about Chloe almost marrying some guy[14] last year. Was there a party bus too? Was Ella trying to make up for something, as Chloe had suggested on the chat earlier? Oh, this was like a real-life soap opera with a supernatural twist. He crossed his legs, curious as to where this would go. 

‘There was _literally_ no time for that when our future bride,’ Ella looked at Anathema, ‘got engaged four weeks ago, told us three weeks ago, and said she _maybe_ wanted to have all of us at her bachelorette party on the day we left Malibu. We only got the bus because I know a guy who knows a girl who knows a guy who owns the rental company.’

‘Well, to be fair,’ said Anathema, mildly amused, ‘I meant more of a get-together dinner at the house or something, not anything as extravagant as _this_.’ She used her champagne glass to point around the bus.

‘You shouldn’t have let Ella take over then,’ Linda said, craning her neck to look at her. She had to shout over the music. Ella used a remote to turn it down. ‘Even after two weeks, you should have known she was _crazy_ about weddings.’

‘I think I’m having a deja-vu,’ Chloe said and shook her head. She took a sip of her champagne.

‘ _I_ like the American style party,’ said Carmen, jabbing a finger into Anathema’s shoulder. ‘When you gotta go, you gotta go with style is what I’m saying.’

Crowley was right about liking this one.

Ella gave a hundred-watt smile. ‘Thanks! Now if everyone could listen for a sec—’

They couldn’t.

Mary-Louise, hereafter known simply as Mary as far as Crowley was concerned because that name was long, laughed at Carmen. ‘You’re saying it like she was _dying_ or something.’

Carmen swung her arm around Anathema’s shoulders. ‘Getting married at 21, feels like she is.’

‘Come on, it’s not like it’s the end of the world,’ Anathema chuckled, and then realised just what it was she said. She blinked. You could see the wheels in her brain spinning. ‘Again.’

A good half of the bus snorted or did something of the like. Even Chloe and her crew, who were pretty much in the loop on everything after their holiday. Or so Crowley supposed. Carmen, however, frowned. ‘Is that an inside joke? D’you have inside jokes with all these people you never talk about?’ She turned from Anathema to the rest of the bus. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve introduced ourselves to some of you actually. I’m Carmen and that’s Mary-Louise. We study the same course as Anathema.’

Mary said, ‘She told us who most of you are, but— _how_ do you know each other, precisely?’ She ran a hand through her hair.

It was the question they’ve all been dreading, because there was no good explanation. The drama began.

‘Erm,’ Anathema said, very eloquent. ‘It’s actually a long story—’

‘I’m Crowley,’ said Crowley. ‘And yeah, I know you want to ask what’s a bloke doing here. Happens all the time, really, can’t blame you. But I’ll leave it to you to figure it out. That,’ he pointed at the Lord of Flies, sitting at the back and eating olives from all the cocktails, ‘is Bella, but we call zir Beelzebub because ze’s the worst boss ever. Full offence.’

He grinned, watching zir squirm under his stare and the _human name_ he’s just assigned zir[15].

‘Ella, you can sit down. I’ve got this,’ he told the enthusiastic planner, who was beginning to look a little lost because no one was listening, to be honest. He got up and leant against one of the poles. ‘Because unlike Aziraphale’s, my story-telling skills are superb, especially when I’m drunk. So! Who wants to hear the story of our bride-to-be?’

Eve clapped her hands and said, ‘Everyone!’ A chorus of _everyones_ joined her.

Anathema gave him a critical look. ‘Crowley, you _know_ what I said.’

He blinked. Her phone went off and she unlocked it to see this exact message: _worry not, im not an idiot. I know how to human-proof the shit I say--been living on this planet 6000 yrs longer than u. look at BELLA. genius, eh?_

He snapped his fingers at Carmen and Mary. ‘I’m assuming she told you how she met Newt?’

‘She was on holiday in Tadfield and Adam and his friends brought him to her cottage after he was in a car accident ‘cos they didn’t know what else to do,’ Mary said. Carmen completed her story with, ‘They shagged and for some _weird_ reason she stayed with him in that village.’

‘We fell in love,’ Anathema said. ‘And I like Tadfield. It’s… different from here.’

Mary drank her champagne. ‘I still don’t know what you see in him, though.’

‘You and me both,’ Maze said. ‘Besides him being good at sex. The prophecy mentioned that, right?’

Anathema narrowed her eyes at her, but the demon just shrugged and toed her black, high-heeled sandals off so she could put her feet up in Eve’s lap.

‘What prophecy?’ Mary asked.

‘That’s just a joke,’ Anathema said rapidly, not taking her eyes off Mazikeen.

‘Well,’ Crowley said. ‘That’s about right. _Except_ she was in a car—or should we say bike?—accident first. Aziraphale and I—that’s my partner, the one dressed in all beige—were driving through Tadfield the day before _he_ came there, and she hit _us_ with her bike, and she disagrees here, but it’s true; we were _supposed_ to be on that road, and she came out of nowhere. She was fine, and we gave her a lift, but she forgot a book in our car. So we came back to return it eventually[16] because Aziraphale just _is_ that kind of person. We sort of became friends after.

‘Newt was actually working for Shadwell, who’s our Tracy’s husband[17],’ he used his glass to subtly point at her, sitting next to Eve and being more interested in the drink than the company she didn’t really know, ‘and who lived in London but decided to retire to the countryside with her like a day later. Guess where? Near Tadfield!

‘Beelzebub, _my_ former boss and Lucifer’s associate, came over there to deal with some trouble with the assignment _we’ve_ been there for in the first place. It had to do with an American air base, it was a whole thing. Ze’s only here to get drunk and forget boyfriend trouble—rivalling companies, the whole shtick—well, while we’re at it, zir boyfriend is my brother; we don’t get along, and it’s all sorts of weird there—and was invited to the wedding for formal reasons only. 

‘You know Lucifer Morningstar, the owner of LUX? He moved to LA in 2011, opened the club, and then became a consultant with the LAPD. He also runs a big company with Beelzebub, mentioned that before. I don’t like him, but we go _way_ back. He was my boss too, before I left the company last year, or rather was fired for botching up that assignment.

‘Chloe here is his girlfriend and partner at work, Linda is his therapist[18], and Ella is his co-worker. I met them three days ago. Well, no, I actually met Ella at Pride last month—awesome party. 

‘Maze is his former personal assistant-slash-bartender-slash-ex. We know each other from work, but not really if you know what I mean. Eve is _her_ girlfriend and another one of _his_ exes. There’s a whole lot of complicated history, it—it’s prob’ly better not to ask. I don’t know a half of it myself—though I did sort of help Lucifer and her get together back in the day. Did I forget anything?

‘Oh, yeah. Adam from Tadfield, he’s actually Lucifer’s son and Aziraphale’s and my godson. Lucifer popped over there to check on him last summer after his birthday and gave him a dog. That’s how _Anathema_ knows him, and how she eventually met _these guys_ in Malibu a month ago, even though they practically live round the corner. They were staying in her house because the neighbour, Bruce-bloody-Wayne, is friends with both her mother and _Lucifer_ , and they were all on holiday together. Oh, and he’s coming to the wedding too. Does that about cover it?’

Crowley flashed a grin and emptied the contents of his glass into his stomach. With all his frantic gesturing, it was a miracle it hasn’t ended up on the floor. Literally.

‘This isn’t making any sense,’ said Mary.

Carmen uttered a deadpan, ‘What.’

Linda said, ‘Wow. And I thought my life couldn’t get any more confusing after _four years_ of therapy with Lucifer.’

‘You ain’t seen nothing yet,’ he said, turning to her with a victorious grin. ‘We gotta get wine and talk sometimes. _Not_ as a doctor and patient though. I’m not doing that.’ He shook his head. He… wasn’t so keen on the idea of therapy, regardless of what Aziraphale might be suggesting. No. Why would he need it? Pfft, he was just _fine_. 

‘Okay, that sounds good, actually,’ she nodded.

‘Not to burst your bubble, my dear,’ said Tracy, ‘but your story-telling skills are about as far from superb as my husband is from an actual exorcist.’

He feigned an offended look. In the corner of his eye, he noticed Carmen and Mary looking at each other, still as lost as fish on land. Anathema just laughed. ‘Better sit down before you embarrass _yourself_ ,’ she said.

Ella got up, patted his chest, and said, ‘It’s okay, buddy, happens to the best of us.’ Then she actually manoeuvred him into his seat and took over.

He was a demon. She shouldn’t get away with that. But before he could respond and say how rude that was, or how what Tracy said wasn’t _true_ , Beelzebub kicked him in the shin with enough force to break the leg if he were human. He frowned and suppressed a yelp.

Ze said, ‘I should have you quartered for saying all that.’

‘But you won’t. Don’t work for you anymore, remember?’ he good as hissed under his breath so the humans wouldn’t hear. ‘‘Sides, it’s all true. You can hardly criticise me for something you’ve been doing yourself—or have you forgotten that we all _saw_? And say what you like, but you’ve had your own arrangement for _centuries_ [19]. You’d hate to have to kill ‘im. Just saying, Lord Beelzebub. Or should I say _sister-in-law_?’

Look, he hated being Gabriel’s brother, but only until it suited him. And zir scowl was worth all of it. Even getting kicked again.

Ella, in the meantime, made a circular motion at herself and her American friends. ‘So what he meant to say was that _we_ know Anathema from here, and _they_ ,’ she repeated the gesture with Crowley and the others, ‘know her from back home. And everyone’s related to someone in one way or another and it’s _super_ confusing. That doesn’t matter today. Today it’s all about the bride! And as a matter of fact, I think we’re just about to hit our first stop, which _is_ … a 24-hour spa!’

‘Oh, bless you, I _could_ do with a nice massage myself,’ Tracy said. ‘My back aches all over.’

‘Mmhm, yes, I _love_ spas,’ Eve added. ‘Everyone’s naked and hot people do nice stuff with your body that isn’t sex.’

‘Yeah, exactly, and we all deserve to relax before the big day.’ Ella turned to the back, where Crowley and Beelzebub sat. ‘This one has mud baths. I thought that might be your thing?’

Crowley snorted. Mud baths were, indeed, very frequent in Hell. When a demon didn’t pay attention and bumped into someone, they often found themselves lying face down in mud and being properly massaged by feet walking on their back.

‘Excellent,’ Beelzebub said, deadpan. ‘I might not actually strangle you when this is over.’

Enter Crowley, Maze, Eve, and zir half an hour later, sitting in four baths, submerged in brown goo from neck to toe with their hair tied up in buns and sipping at cocktails. Which, he _really_ didn’t expect to end up there. The others were enjoying Thai massages and gossiping or whatnot, but no, Maze had to talk him into coming with them like a proper demon he was.

He was trying to avoid them, bless it.

He was also quite a bit intoxicated at this point.

‘Y’know,’ he said, gazing at the ceiling, decorated with LEDs and listening to the calming music, ‘I thought this would be a d’saster. After last week. But, uh, I mean, y’know, ‘s not that bad. Actually.’

‘Last week was fun!’ Maze said. ‘I _love_ a good fight and kicking some angel butt. I bet those feathered bastards are still crying for their mummy to come and save their fragile egos.’

‘Well, Gabriel—’

Crowley whipped his head around to get a better look at Beelzebub’s bath and put on a self-satisfied smirk. ‘Why yes, what did _Gabriel_ do after?’

He was really, really out of his mind, asking this. He didn’t even want to _know_ , and what he _did_ know was that that would get him in _trouble_ , being fired or not. He blamed the cocktails.

‘That’s not any of your buzzinezzz.’ Ze flicked a handful of mud in his face. Yeah, not surprised there. Crowley miracled it away.

This was the one (1) upside of having ended up here: no holding back on the miracles in front of humans. He’s already put on the photo slideshow and had Ella readily back him up by claiming that yes, this was planned, and yes, he had sent the photos to her beforehand.

Well, it was that and the fact that the two demons and Eve of Eden were the only ones besides Aziraphale who’d rather he didn’t wear his sunglasses, which was convenient as he wasn’t _allowed_ to wear them at the spa anyway.

‘I’m probably crazy, but everyone keeps talking about a war,’ Eve said. ‘And do you maybe think, I don’t know, it could be something like… _this_?’

‘What, like a bar fight at Game Night? Nah. Would be too easy,’ Crowley said. He didn’t want to think about this, but, ‘Maybe God planned that, whaddo we know? Nothin’. That’s the bloody point here. ‘S ineffable. But it’s not over. Like I said—I think it’s gonna be us and them. Humans. But what do _I_ know? I’m just a nobody.’

There was silence.

‘You weren’t Before,’ Beelzebub pointed out. It was probably the only time ze said something to him that wasn’t immediately followed by an insult or an order to get the fuck out of zir office.

Crowley didn’t like it. He gnashed his teeth and said, ‘That was a _long_ time ago.’

‘So you think we’re supposed to work together and be all buddy-buddy? That’s why your stupid Apocalypse didn’t work out?’ Maze asked with the air of someone who thought what they were saying was utterly ridiculous.

‘I mean, this can’t all be a counc- coins- _coincidence_. If you look back, ‘s all that nun’s fault for givin’ Adam to the wrong family and him growin’ up the way he did. _We_ didn’t even do anythin’. We raised the wrong fuckin’ boy. But,’ he held up a clean finger, ‘why was _that_ nun there when I came to drop the Antichrist off, and not another one, eh? You ever think about that?’

He let his head drop against the edge of the tub. No one said anything.

Until Beelzebub droned, ‘He went on a rant and started crying. Gabriel. About hizz job and destiny and God allowing and disallowing stuff like—like you and your stupid angelic boyfriend. And uzz. It was dizzgusting. We fucked like five timezz.’

Crowley groaned and closed his eyes. ‘TMI. Please.’

‘You _asked_ , serpent.’

‘And regretted it a second later, obviously! I’m gonna sink into this mud now.’

‘I hate to say this,’ Beelzebub as good as shouted. Crowley paused his sinking and opened his eyes. He was nothing if not the Curious Bastard he’s always been. ‘But you have a point. About the Plan. Everything we thought we knew izz wrong and clearly there wazzz never meant to be a war, and it’s frustrating. All we can do izz make new formzz for everything and watch stupid Earth TV every Friday.’

Huh. So ze wasn’t all that stupid, was ze? Imagine that. Crowley could— _maybe_ —see why Lucifer trusted zir with the Throne, and why he could count on zir loyalty.

Eve pouted. ‘Aww, you should totally hit up LUX sometimes. Lucifer throws the _best_ parties.’

‘Yeah. It’s like he’s a different person Up Here. Less King, more chill,’ Maze said. She finished her cocktail and didn’t even break the glass when she placed it onto the small table between Eve’s and her baths.

‘He leaves his demons behind when he’s here,’ Eve added. ‘Literally.’

Crowley got another Bad Idea. He said, ‘Give it a thousand years, and you’ll be here buyin’ a flat and lyin’ in paperwork just the same.’

‘I respected you, you know,’ Beelzebub drawled. This sentence was somewhere between a good omen and a really bad one. Crowley stiffened and decided that drinking some more was the wisest course of action. ‘I didn’t like you and didn’t see the point in what you were doing with all the technologiezzz and “modern wayzz of temptation”, but you were still my best agent. That’s why I was so angry to see it wazz all lies and humanzz didn’t even need us to lead them down the evil path anymore, ‘cos they were all doing it themselvezz. And you knew all along.’

‘They tell me I’m clever,’ was what Crowley said a minute or three later, somewhat dumbfounded. He stared at the dark brown mud enveloping his entire corporation. It was, oddly enough, pleasant.

Maze laughed him in the face—or would, if Eve wasn’t between them. ‘Dude, ze just complimented you, and not in the demon way. Just take it.’

Yeah. Yeah, he should, because this won’t happen again, and he liked his body intact. But his mouth didn’t quite catch up with his brain. Again. ‘Does that mean I’m—well, _forgiven_ isn’t the best term. Pardoned by you, personally?’

‘Holy Water didn’t hurt Lucifer either,’ ze noted, giving him a somewhat enigmatic look, and didn’t elaborate. Crowley took it as a good thing.

Then the shocking revelation and the impact thereof struck him. Lucifer survived _Holy Water_? When? How?

What could it mean for him[20]?

Putting on his accustomed Cocky Cool Look, he said, ‘The honour’s all mine, then. But don’t expect me to go back to work. I loved my job, but it got all a bit old after a billion years. ‘M planning at least a thousand years ‘f holiday now.’

‘We don’t _want you_ to go back to work.’

‘Good.’

Then Ella barged into the room, wrapped in a white bathrobe, and told them to get out because they had an itinerary to follow and not much time, chop-chop!

Crowley forewent a shower in favour of a quick cleaning and dressing miracle. For everyone, because he was in a puzzlingly good mood. Also, he had no particular desire to see them all naked, and be seen naked, for the second time[21].

The next item on Ella’s list was a fancy organic food-only restaurant[22] in downtown LA, where she has booked two tables thanks to no small amount of luck and Lucifer’s credit card. Aziraphale would’ve liked that, Crowley thought, and took an Instagram-worthy picture of the food. He sent it to his angel just to tease him. It worked like clockwork; Aziraphale’s terrible attempts at text emojis proved as much. He chuckled and slid the phone back into his pocket to carry on with his conversation with Linda and Chloe.

He opted to tell the therapist about the sister-in-law thing this time, and she was so stunned about having a Prince of Hell and the Serpent of Eden as relatives—not to mention three Archangels—that she almost dropped her glass of fresh lemonade[23].

She, thankfully, didn’t say any of that aloud for the oblivious girls’ sake.

After dinner, it was time to hop on the bus again and enjoy a ride to The Grove, a famous shopping centre. With Lucifer’s money still available to her, Ella planned a quick shopping trip and some bonding over, ‘A makeover! We’re gonna buy so much new stuff and try on make-up and get our hair done—only if you want, of course—and show all the guys which party is the _best_. Who’s in!?’

‘Oh yeah!’ Crowley exclaimed, grinning. Shopping for the boss’s money? Oh, he’d get some Gucci sunglasses to substitute his Valentino ones with, and new jackets, maybe a dress or two, and buy something totally outrageous for Aziraphale[24] because _he_ would never willingly go shopping.

Because, yeah. He was beginning to _enjoy_ this not-so-disastrous hen do—or whatever it was called when a genderfluid demon currently using male pronouns joined the party.

Carmen and Mary haven’t figured that one out yet, by the by. They merely guessed that he:

  1. liked Anathema better than Newt (correct)
  2. felt a bit more comfortable in the company of women, rather than Lucifer (correct)
  3. wanted to party without Aziraphale (correct-ish)
  4. was gay (incorrect).



‘And we really don’t have to pay for it?’ Carmen asked. The gleam in her eyes said that she’s been dying to visit the boutiques of Hollywood and see what they were about.

‘Nope!’ Ella said. She turned to Anathema, an actual multimillionaire. ‘Not even you, Miss Loaded, and no talking back. You’re not paying for stuff on your own bachelorette party.’

She raised her hands with a laugh. ‘I didn’t say anything!’

‘Great! Because we only have one final stop after that.’

Which was, both surprisingly and unsurprisingly enough, a cabaret. Specifically one that had a show featuring male dancers alongside female ones—something for everyone and more for bisexuals, Ella said. She was right.

Crowley only had eyes for Aziraphale, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the view[25]. Because this was completely different from the spa situation. Don’t ask him to explain. It just was. 

Ella, now officially crowned Best Bachelorette Party Planner in LA, ordered shots for everyone and led them to a booth that could comfortably seat eleven people after a minor demonic intervention.

No, no one questioned this. Crowley was thankful for the alcohol.

Chloe raised her glass. The rest followed her. She said, ‘To Anathema!’

‘To her wedding!’ shouted Mary and Carmen.

Crowley clicked his tongue. He was sporting lipstick again; a shade he’s bought, a red so dark it was closer to black. ‘No—to convincing Beelzebub to get a haircut[26] and try on some eyeshadow. Thank you, Anathema!’

Wearing their new clothes and all manner of expensive wardrobe improvements, they drank to all of the above and more.

Then a gunshot sliced through the air.

* * *

1 As well as Tracy and Shadwell, who were staying in a hotel, and whose tickets and accommodation price were a gift from Anathema. She had told them they could use the Celestial Building Lobby, together with Adam and the Them, but Shadwell refused because he would stand no sorcery and demonic wiles. A flight it was, then. He was complaining the whole time—to no one in particular, because Tracy was asleep.[✿]

2 Also known as bachelor and bachelorette party in America.[✿]

3 Katy Perry song reference fully intended.[✿]

4 After the whole ballyhoo around the Apocalypse died down, Crowley and Aziraphale found themselves in a rather awkward situation where Shadwell was concerned. Because they both found out that not only they both _knew him_ , but also that the Witchfinder Army was a) what they _both_ considered their network of human agents and b) _non-existent_. They didn’t know whether to be cross with him or laugh their arses off or both, and he was, well, aghast.[✿]

5 Not that he had much of a brain-to-mouth filter to begin with. It has led to quite the number of awkward situations throughout history, the Unspeakable Incident of 1281 being the most notable one. They didn’t speak about that, ever. The name kind of suggested it.[✿]

6 Read: about as tense as they had been shortly after the Apocawhoops. So, you know, _very_.[✿]

7 During private lessons with some of the Earth’s best pianists, back when they were still alive. Chopin, Bach, Horowitz…[✿]

8 Among other things, Hell was one big pit of Gossip. The tales of the Small War in the Lobby have quickly spread, and if there had been a demon who didn’t know about zir own little arrangement with Gabriel—which was rather impossible, the paperwork was _there_ —they did _now_. And they were all giving zir one Heaven of a headache. Plus there was the whole thing with Dagon never having divorced her angelic spouse… and zir reassessing zir own thoughts thereafter. It was all a little _too_ bloody chaotic. So ze gave Belial full autonomy for two days and went Topside. Might as well visit Lucifer’s club and get plastered, ze reasoned. There was so much sin and disorganisation and bad dancing at parties—that would surely lift zir mood. And ze venerated Lucifer. Crowley was just one of those nasty side effects one had to do their best to ignore.[✿]

9 Anathema’s bridesmaids included Carmen, Mary-Louise, Ella, and Crowley. Newt’s groomsmen were Matt, Aziraphale, Adam Young, and one Richard Grayson, son of Bruce Wayne and neighbour of Anathema. Newt didn’t really know him well, but it was either him or Shadwell. As for Crowley, he was _very_ proud of his position, and fuck gender norms anyway.[✿]

10 This was correct to the T.[✿]

11 All this was, also, correct.[✿]

12 In addition to Anathema and Newt’s friends, there was also the groom’s mother. It was enough that she had to fly to _Los Angeles_ of all places; she didn’t need her life to be turned upside down thanks to a few revelations as well.[✿]

13 Belial was the epitome of Sloth—which Crowley knew—and the Lord of Worthless Things. And just like those, he was often forgotten. But not anymore! He was slow and not exactly bright and mad at times, but self-sufficient and perfectly capable of showing everyone that he was still kicking.[✿]

14No one told him that the guy was, in fact, Cain himself, the son of the woman currently sitting opposite him on this party bus. It was probably a good thing. He didn’t need to add this bit of information to the growing list of weird things happening around Lucifer’s gang of humans.[✿]

15 Well, they did promise to try and pass off as human. Crowley just so happened to be good at improv.[✿]

16 Look, this was far more plausible than saying they had to go back because the Antichrist lived in that village, which was mentioned in one of the prophecies in said book, and that the Apocalypse was supposed to have happened there.[✿]

17 They got married in December after they properly moved into their bungalow in a village that was too close to Tadfield to really be a coincidence. Anathema and Newt were the only ones who attended. They visited once a month, that little brown house with the names James and Marjorie Shadwell on the mailbox.

Madame Tracy’s given name was Marjorie Potts, in case you ~~haven’t read the book~~ were wondering.[✿]

18 And he didn’t even mention the fact that she was something akin to his sister-in-law, living with Amenadiel and raising his son. Amenadiel _was_ one of his siblings, unlike Lucifer or anyone else, because he was one of the five born the normal, genes-including way.

But, wait, how can he be Lucifer and Crowley’s brother without them being related? The answer is simple: he _wasn’t_ Lucifer’s brother. But as the oldest child, he liked to think of _all_ the angels as his siblings, whether they really were or not. And Lucifer did nothing to dissuade him from the notion; on the contrary, he took to doing the same. From those who have visited him on Earth, Azrael and Remiel were the only ones actually related to him.[✿]

19 The truth of Gabriel’s and Beelzebub’s meetings throughout the centuries has been revealed thanks to Dagon’s Truth question during Game Night. Crowley hadn’t been there at the moment, but Lucifer made sure to tell him. It was nothing like his and Aziraphale’s Arrangement, mind, but talking about paperwork in taverns and restaurants didn’t exactly spell _enemies_ either.[✿]

20 As Lucifer had noted a few months ago, he would walk out of a Holy Water bath unharmed if he believed hard enough that he would. Celestials were all about self-actualisation; the only issue was that 99% of them didn’t have enough independent thinking to figure it out.[✿]

21 The first time being the moment when everyone had to strip down and climb into the baths. He has seen Eve naked often enough in Eden, sure, and it wasn’t like Mazikeen wasn’t terrifyingly attractive, or that he didn’t like the fact that both she and Beelzebub had some tattoos too, but he’d rather _not_ think about the fact that he knew that because he has seen the demons _in the nude_ and that they’ve seen him _too_.[✿]

22 Because Anathema wouldn’t have it any other way.[✿]

23 Something lighter to sober up.[✿]

24 _Outrageous_ , in this case, meant perhaps a jacket with elbow patches and some new corduroys and maybe one of those wooden bow ties that have been all the rage a few years ago. In beige and brown. He respected his awful colour scheme, thank you very much. Because this way, he might even get the angel to wear it.[✿]

25 And the songs. Of course.[✿]

26 Yes. That happened. It took the collective effort of Crowley, Maze, Eve, Anathema, and the clueless humans to make zir visit a hairdresser and let her _touch her_ , but the result was well worth it. Ze was wearing a nice, symmetrical bob with amenable bangs rather than the bird’s nest of a hair now, cut in line with zir chin and thinned out.[✿]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i made up a lot of things here, so sorry if anything's imprecise. i have no idea how things work in america 
> 
> and yeah, we can't have this be ALL nice and quiet, can we? ;)


	24. in which all is well that ends well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for a brief mention of abuse at the beginning of the second part. it's just mentioned, but just to be safe: you can skip to the bit with lots of italics. you'll know where. :)

The last thing Lucifer expected to happen after a bachelor party that had taken place at LUX and eventually moved upstairs to the penthouse was to wake up in his bed shirtless but alone and see an angel on the sofa, reading one of his books.

In reading glasses. Angels didn’t _need_ reading glasses.

Still somewhat hazy and disoriented, Lucifer asked a question he has perhaps never asked an overnight guest before: ‘What are you still doing here?’

The angel startled and went through a course of expressions, most of which had something to do with guilt or panic, as if he were a child caught eating from the cookie jar. ‘I—I—you said we could stay the night, Crowley and I, and I don’t actually sleep, so you see, I—’ He lifted the book to convey the rest of his point.

Lucifer swung out of bed and walked down the steps from his bedroom, barefoot and bare-chested. Aziraphale looked him up and down and tried not to fluster. Lucifer’s built-in innuendo factory registered this with great satisfaction and through a grin, he said, ‘Like what you see?’

Aziraphale gathered his wits more quickly that one might anticipate. ‘That’s of no consequence. I’m a one-demon kind of angel. Oh, and I was told to inform you that you have about five missed calls and Lord-knows-how-many text messages.’

Lucifer didn’t know what to focus on first, to be frank. Probably the missed calls. That would be the wise choice. Not saying, ‘Well, I’m hardly a demon, am I? And I don’t think we were… acquaintances, in Heaven. Can’t say the same about Crowley[1], but you…’

Well, Lucifer wasn’t picky. He has collected enough data over the billions of years to be able to safely conclude that bookworms were often the most creative ones in bed.

Lucifer also watched for any sign of provocation. There was none. Crowley told, then[2]! He was very pleased with himself.

‘No, you’re the Devil, and I’m not interested,’ Aziraphale said vehemently. ‘I am shocked that you would even suggest such a thing! Anyway, there has been a _murder_.’

That, finally, got his full and undivided attention. A new case! That’s what the calls must have been about, he thought, and visually searched for his mobile. It lay on the piano. And indeed—Chloe has called him five times and texted thrice, with more texts from Ella, Maze, and the entire group chat.

The murder had happened at the bachelorette party.

Of course it had. They just had to take _all_ the lengths to become the superior do, didn’t they?

He turned back to Aziraphale with the question, ‘Did Crowley tell you what happened? Was it an exciting one, a sexy dancer killed by her equally sexy and very jealous ex because of her involvement with another one of those sexy dancers?’

Aziraphale, however, became fully immersed in Lucifer’s book—something Ancient Arabic if the brief glance at the script was any indication—and said, ‘Don’t know. Ask him. He’s been occupying your bathroom for the past half-hour.’

Lucifer opened his mouth, closed it again, and sighed through the nose. There was no point in prolonging this fruitless interaction. But he was very much curious about the sort of reaction he might get from the demon if he walked into the bathroom in his currently dishevelled and scantily-dressed state.

It has been three billion years _at least_.

And he did really want to know whether there was a point in going to the precinct at all or whether it was a dull case he could leave to Dan in favour of revising his wedding speech and polishing his Corvette before he speeds off to Malibu.

‘Crowley?’ he called and knocked on the bathroom door out of politeness. He opened it a second later. ‘I’m sure you can tell me more about that murder yesterday; I wouldn’t want to waste a trip to the precinct if it’s a boring one if you know what I mean.’

Crowley wasn’t listening. He dropped an eye pencil into the sink and flinched at the sudden arrival of his former boss and then tried to cover it up by fixing his hair. He pointedly looked in the mirror and not at Lucifer. ‘I locked the door,’ he said and picked up the pencil.

‘Why, were you doing…’ Lucifer placed his hands on his hips and looked the demon up and down. He was dressed in black palazzo trousers and a black shirt[3] and applying something on his face, but if it’s really been half an hour, ‘inappropriate things in my bathroom?’

‘It’s perfectly normal to lock your door. People do that. What do you want?’

‘Let me see,’ said Lucifer, even if it wasn’t what he wanted. He pointed at his face in the mirror.

Crowley turned to him. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. ‘What?’

Lucifer took his chin in his hand and looked at his eyes, framed with glittery emerald and black. ‘Good colour choice,’ he told him, and let go. For a second there, he was reminded of what his eyes used to be, once.

‘I’ve been, erm. Experimenting. Won’t be visible under the sunglasses anyway,’ Crowley said. He stepped away. Lucifer pretended not to notice that the yellow or his irises melted into his sclerae just slightly.

‘I don’t mean to be insensitive,’ Lucifer said, and the tilt of Crowley’s head told him that it was debatable, ‘but has it ever occurred to you to wear coloured contact lenses[4] around humans?’

Crowley produced a pair of sunglasses out of nowhere and put them on, lips pressed together. ‘The murderer’s at the precinct. Didn’t manage to get anything out of him. That’s your job, I believe. But one of the dancers said the girl thought marriage was pointless and refused to marry the bloke. _And_ there was some sort of shady background. Coincidence, eh?’

He pushed past Lucifer and sauntered towards the sofa. The Devil was left there gaping, contemplating[5], and still very much underdressed.

‘Get up, angel, places to be!’ he heard Crowley shout.

‘But I’m not finished!’ said the angel. Lucifer exited the bathroom.

‘You can keep that for all I care,’ he said, because honestly, when was the last time he’s picked up _any_ of his old books? Besides the signed first editions[6], he barely spared them a glance anymore. The truly important tomes had all remained in his office Downstairs.

Aziraphale looked at him in wonder. He held onto the book like a lifeline. ‘Really?’

‘Yes. It’s a gift.’

‘He wants us to get out,’ Crowley pointed out. He was right.

Lucifer gave him a thumbs-up dripping with irony and stalked over to his wardrobe. He, too, had places to be, and for that, he needed the perfect outfit.

First order of business: get a murderer to confess. Second order of business: officiate a beach wedding.

•

The killer was an ex-soldier with violent tendencies and PTSD who couldn’t handle his girlfriend abandoning him for the fourth time in three years. The victim was a successful escapee of her family’s crime machinations and a part-time cabaret dancer who had a different idea of life than just being the wife of someone who wasn’t home most of the time and didn’t think twice about hitting her, despite still loving him.

Twenty-eight minutes with the offender and the witnesses had been enough for Lucifer to learn this, and for Chloe to mark the case closed.

Personally, he thought it was no fun when they already had the killer and only had to get a confession to piece the puzzle together, and he had been very vocal about this, but Chloe had said, ‘Would you rather be stuck at work right now? Because horrible or not, I’m glad this was a quick and easy case. We have a wedding to be at.’

And she was right.

It was God’s-games level of ironic, too. They were going to a wedding when the idea of one has cost that poor girl her life. She’d have ended up dead anyway, in that kind of relationship, Lucifer reflected. She’d have left for good whether he’d proposed or not. He knew their type. There was a special section in Hell for men who abused their partners and children, and it was by far the _worst_.

But still. He couldn’t help but shake his head at this. _What_ was Mother trying to prove here, eh? That She could do gallows humour? That horrible things might happen if he said _no, I won’t marry you; I’m the Devil, and you’re a human, and we might love each other, but we have different ideas of life and work in completely different circles and weddings are preposterous anyway?_

That he could never predict what might happen and therefore he should get over himself and cherish what he had _now_ because it won’t last forever, unlike _himself_ [7]?

‘Lucifer,’ Chloe said, placing her hand atop his on the gear lever. They were ten minutes away from Anathema’s house. ‘Is something on your mind?’

‘Nothing important,’ he brushed her off. ‘I was just thinking about the speech. Which do you think is better, “if it weren’t for yours truly, these two young souls would never have met” or “as it was I who had, in a way, brought these two together, there would hardly be anyone more appropriate to bless their union than myself”?’

This was a real question, mind.

Chloe snorted. She brushed her hair, loose and slightly tousled by the warm wind, out of her face. She was beautiful, in her matte golden dress and new hairstyle[8] and happiness sticking to her cheeks like rouge. It’s been an Earth month since he’s been back, and it has been the best of his eternal life.

It made returning to Hell next Monday for a Council meeting and the first regular monthly check-up seem a paltry matter. Even if he didn’t exactly look forward to it, as you might imagine.

She said, ‘I would say neither, but there’s no point correcting you here, is there?’

‘It’s true, Detective! I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t, you know that,’ he said, one hand on his chest and an overacted indignant expression on his face. It was a good thing this was a straight patch of road, because he forgot to keep his hands on the steering wheel.

‘Right,’ she laughed. ‘I’m sure the couple will appreciate anything you say, Lucifer. It’s not every day you get married by the Devil himself.’

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘The last time must have been, what, three thousand years ago? It was in Israel if I recall it correctly. I married Solomon and one of his many wives. He tried to exorcise me afterwards.’

‘You’re kidding,’ Chloe said, in that disbelieving tone of hers she used every time he said something mythology-related, stupid, or both.

Lucifer renewed his focus on the road. They were approaching an exit. ‘I’m not! Those were fun times.’

‘You’ve probably seen or… been a part of many historical events, haven’t you? I saw some of those books, in your penthouse. Signed Shakespeare.’

He remembered the earlier conversation and Aziraphale leaving his penthouse with three tomes a human could hardly fit into their hands, and asked, ‘What is it with everyone and my books today?’

Chloe didn’t know about that. ‘What?’

‘Nothing. But yes, I have. You have no idea,’ he laughed.

‘No, I don’t.’ She played with the ends of her hair and looked Lucifer in the eye. ‘Will you tell me sometime? What it was like?’

‘If you wish,’ he said.

He has seen Earth’s entire history, be it with his own eyes or in paperwork or in Hell Loops, and he had more than plenty of interesting or embarrassing or hilarious stories to share that to history book could ever mention.

But it also reminded him that he was immortal, and she was _not_.

‘But not today. Today, I have other things in mind.’

‘Yeah, like making sure no one else dies today and this event goes smoothly enough even with all the…’ She made a vague gesture. ‘You know. Weird guests.’

‘Well, that’s not exactly what I meant, darling.’

‘I know.’ Chloe put a hand on his thigh and squeezed. She leant close enough to whisper in his ear, ‘I know precisely what you meant. And we can always sneak out after the reception.’

But right now, sadly, was the time to park the car and make their way to the beach. The ceremony was to commence in ten minutes, and there was only so much small talk with humans and other beings he could avoid before everyone became impatient and took their issues out on the buffet table.

Lucifer got out of the car and offered Chloe his elbow.

The path through the forest was paved with smooth, flat stones and silken ribbons on the trees. It led all the way to the sea, where the whole affair took place. He’s been there just two odd weeks ago, with Adam and Trixie. It felt like yesterday.

The first thing he noticed when stepping onto the sand was that everyone was barefoot, and soon discovered why. Sand and dress shoes didn’t pair well. With a disgusted grimace, he took his shoes off and left them by the foot of the path. Chloe did the same.

‘I should’ve realised,’ she said. ‘ _Beach wedding_.’

The second thing he noticed when he turned to the right was that in the case of Aziraphale and Beelzebub, it was a bit too late where the buffet was concerned.

‘Are they talking to each other? About… food?’ Chloe asked, clearly looking in the same direction. Lucifer took her hand again and slowly began making his way across the warm sand.

He narrowed his eyes at the Prince. Zir hair looked _normal_. The trousers and fishnet tights stayed, but zir shirt was clearly new, despite bearing zir lapel pins. It was the colour of blood. And cropped. ‘What _happened_ to Prince Beelzebub? Is ze dressed—well, _not-horribly_? For _years_ I’ve been trying to attempt—’

‘Lucifer! Finally! Man, where have you _been_?’

—to make the demons develop some sort of fashion sense that didn’t revolve around filthiness and rips[9] but have been failing over and over, because you couldn’t change a stubborn, stupid demon no matter _how_ many times you said Hell had to go with the times.

Well, it looked like things might be on a hopeful track now! Even if it didn’t exactly follow the dress code for a wedding, a beach one or not. But, baby steps.

‘Excuse me, Miss Lopez, I am _always_ on time,’ he said out loud, despite the truth being closer to 95% of the time. He had no need to go through anything again, mind you, and Ella herself had assured him earlier that they had everything handled. ‘Is everyone else already here?’

‘No, Rae-Rae’s not here yet,’ Ella said with a hint of worry and disappointment in her voice. ‘But I can imagine she’s very busy, so, yeah. We’re waiting for another five minutes, then I’m giving everyone the go. _You_ ,’ she grabbed Chloe by her other hand and led her to the other guests, ‘look absolutely amazing, Decker.’

‘Thanks, Ella,’ she said with a smile. Then she noticed Trixie[10], talking animatedly to Adam and his friends by the sea, feet in the water. Dog was splashing about nearby. ‘You mind if I say hi to Trixie and the kids and talk to you afterwards?’

‘Jeez, go! I need to talk to Lucifer anyways,’ Ella said.

Chloe let go of both of their hands and pressed a kiss to Lucifer’s cheek. ‘Please don’t mention anything about sex, murders, or the Apocalypse in your speech,’ she said, and walked over to the flower children.

‘Yes, Ma’am,’ he called after her. His eyes swept over the rest of the guests. Anathema’s bridesmaids, wearing black trousers identical to Crowley’s—yes, even Ella—Newton’s groomsmen, wearing beige slacks and white button-downs—yes, even Aziraphale—and everyone else, mostly gathered near the buffet table and chatting away.

The little Nephilim Charlie, tucked in Linda’s arms, was fascinated by Gabriel’s tie for some reason, and insisted on trying to grab it every time the conversation between him and Amenadiel brought him closer to his father. Maybe because the Archangel was his actual uncle. It was horrifying.

Gabriel’s grimaces thought so too. Lucifer made a point to applaud Linda for laughing at him and doing nothing to discourage Charlie from his game.

‘So, what do you need me for?’ he asked Ella, and headed towards the crowd. She followed him.

‘Oh, I just wanted to make sure you know the order of the procession. Remember, the guests go first, then the groom, and _then_ you,’ she said, fervently gesturing with her hands. ‘I trust your speech isn’t too over the top, but still: _don’t_ make a scene.’

‘Who do you take me for? I know how weddings work, Miss Lopez! Or do I need to _make sure_ you know this isn’t my first time doing it?’ He put on a smug smile.

It didn’t deter Ella’s concerns from in the slightest. ‘Yeah, but I know you and your…’ she gestured at his body, ‘antics, Luce. And I need this wedding to be perfect.’

‘Compensating, are we?’ he smirked.

‘What? No, this has nothing to do with me or my lack of partner or anything, _pffft_ , no! What are you even—’ She shook her head emphatically. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I just want Anathema to have an awesome ceremony. Because I love weddings.’

‘I’m sure,’ Lucifer said, entirely unconvinced. She noticed and hurried to check her phone for the time. 12:57 p.m.

But it wasn’t long until the archangel Azrael appeared on the edge of the forest, wearing an old-fashioned floral dress, and joined the party. Ella wrapped her in a hug. He held her in very high regard, at that moment. Not many beings, human or otherwise, could get away with that.

Then one of the bridesmaids—Carmen?—turned the speakers up. _Caribbean Blue_ by Enya began to play, and the ceremony could begin at last.

After Lucifer took his place beneath the small gazebo, the four bridesmaids[11] side by side with the groomsmen walked down the aisle. Behind them walked Trixie, Pepper, Brian, and Wensleydale with the flowers and Dog trailing behind them, carrying a small box with the rings in his mouth like the proper Hellhound he was.

Then entered Anathema, given away by Bruce Wayne. She was wearing a long, cream dress with lace sleeves, and a flower crown on her head. They were real flowers, too, nothing cheap and plastic. Newt was dressed in black, and the boutonniere on his jacket matched her crown.

Everyone was staring at her. But she was staring at her very-soon-to-be husband.

The guests sat down in their wooden chairs[12]. Lucifer cleared his throat.

‘Dear friends and enemies,’ he began. He made sure to glance at Gabriel at the _enemies_ part. ‘We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of young Anathema and Newton.’

The couple smiled at each other in a very sickening manner. The groom was sweating.

‘Some of us live round the corner. Some of us have come here all the way from England to support their marriage and stand by them as their friends and family. And some of us have come from Heaven and Hell itself,’ he paused, looking at the Archangel and the Prince sitting next to him. ‘Or at least what feels like it.’

You had to cover things up for the humans, after all.

‘But either way, we have come here because we all share a common variable. We have all bonded over the dreadful experience of my family trying to ruin everything and practically end the world, and Anathema and Newton are no exception to that. They haven’t known each other for long, being from completely different backgrounds, but I think we can all agree it’s as if fate, or a 17th-century prophecy of an old witch, brought them together and told them to go for it and get married, right here and right this month.

‘Some could say this was a match made in Heaven, but as a matter of fact, these two young souls would never have met if it weren’t for yours truly—so who better to officiate their union than the Devil?’

If he forgot to add _metaphorically speaking_ here, well, it was sort of implied, he would tell anyone who still thought he was speaking in analogies. He chuckled, observing the amused, alarmed, and knowing faces of the guests, and then turned to the pair in question.

‘Dear bride and groom, I won’t go into all the boring details about marriage being the promise to love and honour one another for the rest of your lives, because we all know the divorce rates are incredibly high nowadays. But I do hope that you two will stick together through all cases of domestics, mood swings, man flu, and family disasters that life will bring your way, because trust me, it _will_.’

Anathema shot him a Look. The guests laughed. Well, most of them.

‘Now, I ask you to join hands, look at one another, and forever remember my words.’ Lucifer turned to Newton, who was getting more nervous by the minute. ‘Newton Pulsifer, do you take Anathema Device to be your wife?’

He nodded. ‘I do.’

Then he turned to her. ‘Anathema Device, do you take Newton Pulsifer to be your husband?’

‘I do,’ Anathema said with a smile.

‘You may exchange your vows.’

Newt swallowed and began first. They had agreed on simple vows, Lucifer remembered, and was glad for it, because the overdone, cheesy vows as often seen in films were _nauseating_. ‘I take you, Anathema, to be my wife, my partner and support in life, and my only true love. I promise from this day forward to be grateful for our time together, to be patient with you, to inspire you to grow, and to cherish our friendship and love forever.’

Anathema recited the vow back to him. Then they took their rings from Lucifer.

Newt slipped Anathema’s ring on her finger with the words, ‘This ring symbolises my love for you and the commitments we made today.’ She slipped his ring on Newt’s finger in return, again repeating the words.

‘By the power vested in me by my Mother, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss each other, and please go ahead and make a show of it.’

Anathema put her hands on Newt’s cheeks and brought her lips to his, but not before shooting Lucifer another exasperated look. He just grinned. Honestly, she _agreed_ with his offer, so she shouldn’t complain. The guests cheered and clapped. When a gush of wind sent Anathema’s hair into their faces, Lucifer had absolutely nothing to do with that.

And no, they didn’t give him the pleasure of an open-mouthed kiss that bordered on inappropriate. It was a very short one. But he still noticed certain groomsmen shedding a tear or two[13].

‘Mr and Mrs Device-Pulsifer, everyone!’ Lucifer said. ‘Let’s sign the marriage licence, and then it’s onto the good part!’

In the front row, Trixie shot him a Look. He looked away and tried to convince himself he didn’t know what it was about.

‘Oh, and I thought the part where we actually get married was the good part,’ Anathema said, dropping her smile and putting on an Utterly Done Face, reminiscent of Chloe. Or Aziraphale. ‘How foolish of me.’

‘No, that’s clearly the cake and dancing, darling,’ said Newt matter-of-factly. Lucifer, who had found out that he _could_ occasionally show specks of a sense of humour at the stag do, chuckled, and said, ‘Precisely.’

Everyone required to sign the paperwork—because of course _that_ was everywhere—signed the paperwork, and with that, the newlyweds walked down the sandy aisle, hand in hand, straight to the buffet table. More chairs stood all around it, slightly buried in the sand, and the cake[14] and a myriad of other dishes were waiting for the guests to dig in.

Lucifer remained where he was. Because all humour aside, he’s been Thinking[15].

About Things.

About showing he Meant It and would always come back because LA was his home, not Hell, never Hell. About his family, and the woman who reminded the Devil what Love was. About the ridiculous demon and angel who had been willing to sacrifice everything to keep the Earth from blowing up and had made All This possible.

Twice, in Crowley’s case. Lucifer wouldn’t forget what he did for Hell despite hating the place and almost everyone in it down to the bone[16].

‘Lucifer?’ He heard her voice. ‘Earth to Lucifer!’

‘Earth is where I like to be, yes,’ he said, putting on a nonchalant smile. They were the last ones to stay behind. ‘Are they cutting the cake already?’

‘No. Usually, there’s a toast first.’ Chloe’s brow creased. ‘Are you okay? You’ve seemed… off, today.’

‘I’m perfectly fine, Detective, I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said. Because denial and lies were two completely different things. He fixed his cuffs and forced his legs to move. Chloe followed.

‘No, Lucifer, you’re not,’ she said. The frown was _audible_ in her voice. ‘Something’s bothering you. Is it—I don’t know, is it the wedding? If you’re uncomfortable with this, you should’ve said—’

‘It’s not the wedding,’ he said dryly, stopping in the middle of the aisle. The hot sand slightly burnt the soles of his feet. It was sort of ironic, that; he was the Devil, for God’s sake! ‘Although, it really gives one a clear perspective of the future.’

‘What do you—mean?’ She stepped closer and took his hand.

‘What _do_ I mean, indeed,’ he chuckled darkly. ‘History, future, I have and will have seen it all. A million other weddings, couples, partners, humans. Eight years in LA—that’s nothing for me. Fifty years is nothing. A _thousand_ is nothing, Chloe, but not for you, them, Linda, _any_ of you.’ His wings really felt like materialising right now. Strong emotions did that. But he didn’t allow it. Someone might notice, and that would be greatly embarrassing.

‘Not for any of you,’ he said again.

‘Lucifer.’ Chloe took that hand and placed it over her chest. ‘I… I know you’re immortal and will outlive us all. I don’t want to know, because it’s—well, it’s scary to be honest. I know I can’t be with you for the rest of your life. But you can be there for the rest of mine. And—that means something, right?’

‘Well, in theory, if you went to Hell, you could—’ he snorted. She _wasn’t_ going to Hell. That much was certain. But she raised a questioning eyebrow, so he finished the sentence anyway. ‘Be my Queen. But you’re _not_ going to that awful place, darling.’

‘You don’t know that.’

‘I do know that.’ She gave him one of those signature narrow-eyed looks, like he was talking nonsense. ‘But yes. It means something. Chloe, you’re the first person I’ve ever loved[17]. I’ll still remember you, billions of years from now.’

A tear ran down her cheek.

‘And it’s not like I can’t take the lift up to Heaven and sneak into the Souls Department. I’m _great_ at sneaking into places. All of humanity practically exists because I was great at sneaking into places.’

That has earned him a wet chuckle and a shake of Chloe’s head. ‘A year ago I’d never have believed that could be true. And here I am now, with Eve as my _friend_.’ Then her eyes widened. ‘Oh my God, I almost married her _son_ , and now I’m _friends_ with her. _Your_ ex.’

‘Speaking of marriage—’

She glanced at the buffet table. He followed her gaze. Nothing important seemed to be happening yet, which, good. She said, ‘We should probably get your asses over there, yeah.’

‘Chloe?’

‘Hmm?’

‘I wasn’t finished.’ He took a deep breath and brushed his thumb against hers. ‘Fifty years may as well as be nothing for me, yes, _but_ it’s more than half of your life. And I’d love nothing more than to spend that by your side, as your husband. I know that now.’

Chloe’s other hand flew to her mouth.

‘If you’d have me, that is. I’ll probably be very bad at it. I’m not built for marriage. But this Devil is still up for learning some new tricks.’ He laughed somewhat awkwardly. Chloe was still gaping. ‘This is actually very spontaneous. I don’t even have a ring[18]. But that can be very well fixed later—’

Chloe wound that hand around Lucifer’s neck and kissed him.

‘Yes. Yes, I’d love that too.’ She beamed. Then her smile morphed into a grimace. ‘I already sort of suggested it—’

Lucifer, not eager to hear any words about him being an oaf, said, ‘How about now?’

‘Lucifer, no, I’m not eloping with you. My mother would _kill_ me.’

‘Ah, that’s actually a good point.’

‘And maybe we shouldn’t…’ she hesitated, looking at the wedding party, ‘tell them just yet.’

•

**the devil and his prada gang**

**witchbitch:** I RAISE U ONE TO MARRIED LIFE

 **newtthenewt:** HOw dis you witre thatt correcectly deer?

 **witchbitch:** I always told you to enable autocorrect…

 **newtthenewt:** My de ar wife

 **newtthenewt:** I haev a wiffe now???? wow

 **gayngel:** Oh dear, you should stop drinking those mimosas.

 **thedevil:** he should definitely NOT

 **thedevil:** the poor thing never even kissed anyone before anathema and the only thing he truly desires is to get old with her and a bunch of grandchildren in a nice house in the country, let him live a little! it’s his wedding night ;)

 **mazikeen:** u know how I didn’t have a wedding gift

 **dabestdemon:** VIVidly

 **mazikeen:** shut up demons dont give each other gifts

 **mazikeen:** but yea I have one now ;)

 **witchbitch:** ok wherever that’s going, no

 **mazikeen:** u don’t even know what I was gonna say pfft

 **witchbitch:** threesome

 **mazikeen:** YEA 👉🏾👉🏾

 **newtthenewt:** U M m

 **morningstarjr:** yeah I’ll just exit this conversation

 **DrLinda:** It’s past midnight, you should be asleep!

 **gayngel:** Most definitely, Adam.

 **morningstarjr:** you’re not sleeping, so why should I?

 **saltand:** adults always making up stupid rules

 **cheese:** Right?

 **Trixie:** we couldn’t even have more of that cake

 **witchbitch:** KIDS

 **witchbitch:** GO TO BED

 **dabestdemon:** u can have all the leftover cake for breakfast if u go to sleep now, demons promissse ;)

 **Trixie:** yay!

 **morningstarjr:** ok

 **gayngel:** Crowley!

 **dabestdemon:** whaat, its motivation

 **lordofflies:** encouragement of gluttony in children, excellent job

 **lordofflies:** if u were still our employee that is

 **dabestdemon:** what an honour,

 **thedevil:** where have _you_ been, the last time we saw you was in the woods with a certain brother of mine

 **lordofflies:** none of ur business

 **mazikeen:** ;))))

 **witchbitch:** yeah that’s still something I didn’t see coming

 **witchbitch:** and I had a fucking prophecy book

 **amen:** I think none of us did…

 **morningstarjr:** I did

 **witchbitch:** well, fair

 **gayngel:** Adam, bed.

 **morningstarjr:** alright I’m going but dog’s with me

 **Trixie:** can I go sleep with you and dog?

 **morningstarjr:** sure!

 **mazikeen:** snort

 **thedevil:** maze…

 **thedetective:** I told you it was a bad idea to even let them be here, Lucifer

 **thedevil:** this is educational, detective

 **newtthenewt:** Um m

 **witchbitch:** maze look what u did he’s having an aneurysm on our wedding night

 **mazikeen:** like I said-

 **eve:** ok but we can have some fun right maze

 **mazikeen:** ok who’s with us

 **dabestdemon:** no one???????

 **dabestdemon:** 😳😳

 **eve:** oh I see u guys like some privacy :)

 **gayngel:** …

 **awesomestCSI:** heyyyy im sad and alone

 **eve:** ella come party

 **awesomestCSI:** fff nice wording

 **witchbitch:** ksdjsnfjsnfjs

 **DrLinda:** Oh no

 **dabestdemon:** I choked

 **eve:** what can I say, heaven really was too dull for me

 **angelicego:** Does everyone here have such a dirty mind

 **thedevil:** oh gabe so do you

 **lordofflies:** im teaching him things

 **dabestdemon:** enough of a bastard, eh?

 **lordofflies:** a dumb idiot more like

 **angelicego:** Hey!

 **witchbitch:** some of us like guys like that though, right ;)

 **gayngel:** I’m praying yours doesn’t read this, Anathema dear.

 **witchbitch:** he’s too traumatized and still needs a sex

 **witchbitch:** *sec

 **awesomestCSI:** and I oop

 **dabestdemon:** oh angel that was, that,

 **dabestdemon:** wicked

 **gayngel:** 😉

 **eve:** HE LEARNED EMOJIS

 **thedevil:** unlike someone, aziraphale only pretends to be a dumb idiot

 **gayngel:** Ah, well.

 **awesomestCSI:** [ _image attached_ : ladiesnight.jpeg]

 **amen:** They really did it

 **mazikeen:** no need to ruffle ur feathers nothings happening

 **awesomestCSI:** yet

 **dabestdemon:** ok, yea, time to leav e

 **witchbitch:** well, either way, thank u for being here, and thank u Ella for organizing it, and thank u Lucifer for that weird speech

 **witchbitch:** while I’d be lying if I said it was the best day of my life, it was pretty awesome, and I’m glad to have all of u as my weirdass new adoptive family 💕💕💕💕

 **awesomestCSI:** woooo 💖💖💖

 **thedevil:** you are _very_ welcome

 **eve:** we love u

 **gayngel:** Indeed, dear girl, indeed.

 **thedevil:** let’s turn this off and let them enjoy the pleasures of the wedding night now, shall we?

 **gayngel:** I think you’ll find Newton’s drunkenness miraculously alleviated 😇

 **awesomestCSI:** he’s on a ROLL

 **witchbitch:** poor Crowley

 **Tracy:** Oh, I think he’s enjoying himself 😁😁😁😊😊😊😊

 **thedetective:** okay, can we finish this now?

 **thedevil:** please >:)

 **dabestdemon:** THE END.

 **mazikeen:** was that necessary

 **dabestdemon** **:** ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡ – ✧)

* * *

1 It was once, and a very, very long time ago. Samael has just been abandoned by the love of his life for some—some random archangel with an odd liking for water creatures! And it hurt, and turning to Father didn’t help whatsoever because all He had to offer was some cryptic advice, so he turned to others instead. Seducer and Destroyer—that’s always been his domain.

There were countless angels. And there was Raphael, the Archangel who loved hearing stories of others and connecting with everyone. She was so, so beautiful. Besides—sleeping with one’s ex’s sister was the ultimate revenge, was it not? But it wasn’t just that. There was a sort of friendship, too.[✿]

2 ‘Do _you_? Have experience?’  
‘Obviously, I’m a demon, after all. Well, not that… much experience. Less than a hundred times. Well, less than ten. Well, three. Twice with a human. Once in Heaven. With um. Samael.’  
‘But wasn’t Samael Luc—ahh. I see. Well, that makes sense, I suppose—’  
‘Let’s never talk about this again. Now, where were we?’[✿]

3 Because Crowley was a self-respectable demon and couldn’t wear anything other than black, dark grey, or, occasionally, dark red. But it was also bloody hot outside, and that meant he had to give up his tight jeans for once. And these trousers were one of the previous day’s treasures.[✿]

4 Crowley knew in theory that yes, those were a thing, but his eyes were a matter of several deeply-rooted issues and he’d rather not debate that any further.[✿]

5 Lucifer had a nice strike of projecting his personal problems and feelings onto cases and he sure as Hell wasn’t going to stop _now_. Crowley’s words clicked together with Trixie’s and there you go.[✿]

6 This was a hobby he unknowingly and unintentionally shared with Aziraphale. He had titles the angel would be _so_ jealous of. The Shakespeares were his most treasured ones.[✿]

7 We never said that while ridiculous, his projecting didn’t sometimes spark off a thought that might actually be on the right track. Lucifer was a being of immeasurable power and wisdom, if he said so himself, and while fuelled by Parent Issues and Denial, he _was_ occasionally clever, you know.[✿]

8 Less blonde, more natural, and with bangs; she had it done the day before in a hair studio at the shopping centre, totally spontaneously, and the change felt absolutely _amazing._ [✿]

9 As you might probably guess, demons helped popularise the fashion trend of ripped jeans. They always had holes in their trousers and coats, and sometimes they went to Earth looking like that, and sometimes humans noticed. They thought it was intentional. And voila, a few years later, the world’s top brands began selling jeans that were more hole than denim for preposterous prices and people actually _bought them_ , thinking they were being new and innovative and breaking the stereotypes.[✿]

10 While the parties were in full progress yesterday, she was staying in Anathema’s house with the Them and the couple’s mothers. They went out to the sea and played Uno in the evening. It was awesome, and she privately thought it was better than any kind of party Mummy or Lucifer could be at.[✿]

11 Or at least three bridesmaids and one brides-demon.[✿]

12 Made of 50% wood and 50% miracle power. Should withstand the weight of a thick Archangel.[✿]

13 Two out of four. Yes, Aziraphale was one of them. None of the bridesmaids cried, and Crowley made sure to throw that in Aziraphale’s face.[✿]

14 Made entirely out of organic, local ingredients, cane sugar, and real butter. It cost a small fortune, but that was nothing for multimillionaires such as Anathema and her mother. The rest of the food on the table came from the hands of the bridesmaids and bride’s family, also from locally-sourced ingredients and as healthy as possible. They all got up at 6 a.m. because of it.[✿]

15 We were surprised too.[✿]

16 Which was about 86%. Bones weren’t the absolute measure of things for demons who could easily be discorporated or rearrange their atoms however they wanted.[✿]

17 Well… this rather depended on the use of _ever_. She was the first person he’s ever loved as _Lucifer_. She _wasn’t_ the first person he’s ever loved in his entire existence, Heaven-included. But that stupid piece of prophecy seemed to agree that that didn’t matter. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

That piece of prophecy was, also, the only other titbit of Agnes Nutter’s book that made it out besides the piece about Betamax, so it was _bound_ to be correct.[✿]

18 He could miracle one into existence. He was aware of that. But that still felt like cheating.[✿]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is it for the regular story! the next two chapters will be epilogues set in the future, one from la and one from the south downs :) again, thanks so much for reading!!!
> 
> also, the chat part was actually the first bit of this particular chatroom that i wrote some two months ago, and i wasn't sure whether to include it here or not, but in the end, i decided to just do it and added a bit. it's from [chapter 104](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17384027/chapters/48827144) of the og fic, and if you want more chats on the wedding, go ahead and read that! and fyi, this fic spans exactly 50 chapters of that one, 54 to 104! wild, right


	25. epilogue, part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise! this is very short, so it only took me two days to write. this one is lucifer's part of the epilogue, and the next one will be crowley's. i think i should still be able to get that one up by monday.
> 
> edit: oh, the word count is exactly 115 666 now! what a nice coincidence :')

**LOS ANGELES, 2028**

‘Adam, we’re gonna be _late_ ,’ Trix called from the lounge, putting on her sandals. Adam knew this, despite still being in the bedroom and having the door closed. He always knew this sort of thing.

He also knew that they wouldn’t be late. He was the Antichrist, the first and original, thank you very much, and Antichrists weren’t late to Armageddon’t Anniversary parties. ‘We _can’t_ be late, not if I have a say in it!’ he called back. ‘And anyway, I’m going!’

They were supposed to be at the Lobby in fifteen minutes, and from there, they would move to Tadfield via the London Door. But if there was something Adam has learnt from Crowley and his Satanic father, it was how to drive fast without hitting anything and let traffic obey _him_ instead of the usual way around.

Yes, even in Los Angeles.

Which was where he’s been living and studying for the past three years, in a shared flat with his girlfriend, who had been his best friend when they’d first moved in, and his best friend, who had originally been a not-so-random Caltech bloke who had responded to a Facebook advert.

Which was quite a miracle, seeing as no one really used Facebook anymore.

‘What took you so long?’ asked Warlock, folding his arms. Even in sweltering August temperatures, he was wearing black jeans and a black tank top. Typical.

‘Mate,’ Adam said, slinging an arm around both his and Trix’s shoulders, ‘I didn’t want to spoil the surprise, you see, but seeing as you give me no choice, well. I was wrapping the birthday present I got for you. ‘Cos I’m not the only one who’s turning 21 here as far as I can remember.’

The present, which was actually a bunch of _very_ old[1] gramophone records, was currently hidden in his back pocket. It was disobeying about five laws of physics, but that was the last thing that concerned him at the moment.

The more years he spent in the general proximity of Lucifer, the stronger his powers got. But, as he had found out sometime around the time he was 14, he didn’t actually mind. And it wasn’t like he interfered with reality on a universal level. That had been a one-off, mind you.

‘Come on, Dog! Muffin!’ he called. Two dogs, one or both of whom might have been former Hellhounds, scurried his way, yapping and wagging their tails excitedly.

Warlock, unimpressed, pushed Adam’s arm off his shoulder and opened the door. Beckoning them to _finally_ head out, he said, ‘Our birthday was five days ago.’

Adam deftly grabbed the keys and slammed the door shut with a thought. The flat was on the first floor[2]; they had to run down the stairs. The dogs were way ahead of them. He pointed out that the party was today, not five days ago.

Trix said to Warlock, in that voice of hers that suggested Mischief[3], ‘You know he had babysitting duty this week. He _forgot_.’

Adam turned his head to glance at her. ‘Whose side you’re on, exactly?’

She gave him a kiss on the cheek and followed Warlock out of the building. But she wasn’t wrong, even if was loath to admit he could _forget_ to buy a _birthday present_. Angelic children were quite the handful. He would know. He had been one.

With a sigh, he got into the car and started the ignition. He pulled away from the kerb with enough ease and confidence to make any and all past complaints and troubles with the wheel being on the wrong side seem practically surreal.

‘Unrelated, but,’ Warlock said from the backseat, where he was enveloped by the dogs, ‘we should _really_ do something about Trix’s old room if you’re gonna keep sharing every night anyway.’

The flat had three rooms. One of them has been used for storing clothes and books rather than living in it, lately. They knew this. But it was a matter no one dared talk about. Well, until now.

Trix smirked and turned to him. Her multicoloured fingernails drummed against the backrest. ‘Why don’t you ask your boyfriend to move in?’

In the rear-view mirror, Adam saw red rushing to Warlock’s cheeks. He laughed. Revenge really was sweet, sometimes.

•

‘Are we really the first ones here?’ Linda looked around the Lobby, empty besides an angel and a demon on guard duty, sitting at a desk and playing chess. Then she checked her watch. It was two minutes until the designated meet-up time[4].

‘It seems so,’ said Amenadiel. ‘Can’t say I’m surprised.’

‘Maybe they left without us; you know Lucifer,’ Maze said, sending a narrowed look at the clerks as if, somehow, everything was their fault. Or perhaps because they had been finicky about the paperwork needed to transport cars through the Doors.

Whoever might express concern about illegally crossing borders this way has clearly never seen the sort of checks one had to go through around here. Linda would know, because she had asked the very same question once upon a time.

Either way, it was a good thing Maze wasn’t allowed to bring weapons, and that Eve had _checked_.

Linda said, ‘Yeah, but he’s changed. We all know _that_.’

‘They’re still in the city,’ said Charlie, standing between Dad and Aunt Maze. ‘Uncle Lucifer and Adam. I can feel it.’

Adam perhaps was the Antichrist, but what Adam _wasn’t_ was the son of the firstborn angel. Charlie wouldn’t develop wings for another two years at least, as all the ancient Heavenly texts assured his parents, but even at the age of nine, his powers were uncanny.

‘Hmm,’ Maze said, cocking her head in consideration.

‘Where precisely, Charlie?’ Amenadiel asked with a kind smile, and put a hand on his shoulder. Linda went and crouched in front of him; they’ve been training his powers together, all three of them. It would be too dangerous not to, even outside of Heaven’s influence.

Charlie forcefully closed his eyes and focused. He was great at feeling the presence of other celestials[5].

‘Adam’s here,’ he said five seconds later. ‘Look!’

Linda chuckled. She didn’t need powers to see him walk inside, sandwiched between Warlock and Trixie. He was holding her hand and grinning, giving off the slightly unsettling aura of charisma and attraction he carried everywhere he went, much like his biological father.

‘Good job, kiddo,’ Amenadiel said with a laugh. He hoisted him onto his hip as if he were 40 pounds lighter than he actually was. _Angelic strength_.

He has accidentally broken their bed with that. Twice. But that was a different matter altogether.

‘Lucifer’s not here yet?’ Trixie asked, raising an eyebrow.

Adam grinned and said, ‘Told you, can’t be late.’

It was 8:00 to the dot. But where _was_ Lucifer, indeed?

•

He couldn’t find Adrian’s favourite snowy owl plushie.

Lucifer dropped onto the sofa and fixed his sleeves. Adrian, being three and stubborn much like Lucifer was at _any_ age, ran over to him with a crayon and held it up threateningly, the sharp end almost jabbing into his leg. That was all Maze’s nannying skills. ‘I want Sir Wingy,’ he said. ‘Now.’

He wasn’t leaving without him, that much was clear.

At least he was too young to put some real weight into that. Adam had said, anyway.

‘I don’t _have_ Sir Wingy. You must’ve forgotten him at Adam’s flat,’ he said with more patience than he thought he could muster. Chloe was no more successful in the search, so there couldn’t be any other explanation, really. He often spent time there when both Lucifer and Chloe were at work.

He frowned. ‘Use your magic, Daddy!’

Lucifer sighed heavily. Unless he wanted to pull out his _own_ wings and get crayon all over them[6], he would have to. At least he didn’t have to report to any higher-up who would have to review and approve his use of miracles. _Locating a child’s plush toy_ was hardly something the Devil would be proud of.

That was probably the only advantage of remaining King: _being_ the higher-up. Even in a remote way.

He snapped his fingers. The bloody thing popped up on the sofa, visibly chewed on by a dog. He fixed that too. He was right about Adam’s flat, then. Adrian grinned and dropped the crayon as fast as the budding tantrum.

‘There,’ Lucifer handed the owl to him with a smile. ‘Are we ready to go now?’ He nodded. ‘Okay, we’ll tell Mummy and then we’ll go and meet our friends.’

‘Is Sophia an’ Lily gonna be there?’

‘We’re going to have to find out, won’t we?’

It has turned out, dealing with filthy, loud, demanding, impatient, and often violent demons wasn’t all _that_ different from taking care of a child. It was what had helped him the most when he had found out. Oh, he had panicked, quite a lot, and got drunk, quite a lot, and moaned about not being ready to _actually_ raise a _child_. Quite a lot.

Then the horrifying realisation that they most likely were the next Antichrist and would bring about the next Armageddon sooner than anticipated had dawned on him, and he’d drunk some more, together with Crowley, Aziraphale, and about everyone else at CAD night one July Friday in 2024.

But that was a problem for later. They had eight years to find out.

And—Lucifer loved him, no matter what. They would raise him the right way and tell him about everything in advance, properly, not like those conspiring idiots who had tried the first time. That ought to count.

The _current_ problem was being bloody _late_.

He grabbed Adrian’s hand and called, ‘We have the owl, darling! We’ll be waiting in the car!’

There was no response. ‘Chloe?’

Again, silence. Only the clock in the kitchen ticked away loudly and persistently.

Lucifer turned to Adrian. He tried not to sound alarmed. ‘Wait here, all right? I’ll go see where Mummy is. She’s playing hide-and-seek with us.’

‘I want to find her!’ said the boy enthusiastically.

‘No, you stay here and watch Sir Wingy, urchin. Or do you want him to fly away again?’ Adrian shook his head and held onto the owl.

Lucifer crept into the bathroom first. She wasn’t there. He didn’t expect her to be, but he wasn’t exactly calm either. He had to think; where had he last seen her? They’d been looking for the toy in the bedroom, and then someone from work had called her on the phone.

And—bingo. He released the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

Lieutenant Chloe Morningstar was sitting at his desk in the bedroom. She was clutching a piece of paper in her trembling hand and didn’t register his arrival until he cleared his throat. She was alive and safe, but something smelt fishy.

‘Chloe?’

‘Lucifer.’ She looked up at him, eyes watery and red. ‘When were you going to tell me about this?’

He didn’t follow. There was a lot of paperwork on that desk, mostly from Hell and LUX and various kindergartens. ‘About what, darling?’

‘I was searching for the Norton file, I knew you had it here somewhere, so I opened the drawer and there it was, but I found—I know I shouldn’t have opened this, but—this letter, it’s—it’s from your _Mother_ , Lucifer. And it says here—it says—’ She took a shaky, deep breath. ‘It’s our wedding gift. That was _eight years ago_.’

Right. That one. It had shown up in the post a week after they’d got married, and he’d scoffed at it and thrown it in the first drawer, unread. She hadn’t bothered to answer any of his questions for _aeons_ , so if She’d suddenly thought he would care, She had been _wrong_.

But right now, he wasn’t so sure of himself anymore. He swallowed. ‘What else does it say?’

She gave him a baffled look. ‘You mean you haven’t—’

Lucifer strode over to the desk despite himself. ‘Read it? No, of course not, don’t be ridiculous. I think I made it clear that I didn’t want anything from Her when I Fell.’

‘Okay, of course you haven’t.’ She let out a resigned sigh and then, unexpectedly, proceeded to shove the letter into his hands like he was the toddler rather than the husband. She wiped at her eyes. ‘Read.’

_Dear Lucifer,_

_Please, accept this letter and my sincere congratulations as a belated wedding gift._

_I know I haven’t been the most communicative of parents, but you must know it was all for a reason that is, well, ineffable, and therefore I can’t divulge more information. You will, hopefully, understand when you have a child of your own._

_Spoiler alert: you will. But you need not worry. You will do excellently, despite all your doubts and questions, because if there is something every child with a problematic relationship with their parents has learnt, it’s that they can do better._

_Now, I know this cannot even begin to make up for all the grievances of the past, but I still want to offer you a certain chance, or a sign of goodwill should you wish to call it that. Proof that I mean well, and that free will is and always has been yours._

_I know of your sorrows concerning your immortality and your wife’s rather finite lifespan. I hear you, my children, and I weep with you, for love often walks on impossible, unpredictable paths and often ends in tragedy, especially where relations between humans and ethereal beings are involved._

_I am known not to interfere, but for every action, there is a loophole (you didn’t hear this from me), and a certain deity so happens to owe me a favour. Yes, it is the result of the Bet. And where I only pull tiny strings, she might be more inclined to change the fate of a person should someone ask._

_What is this about, you wonder?_

_Well, it was not uncommon in the early years of the planet Earth to elevate one’s beloved human to the state of divinity. Look at, say, Dionysus’ mother._

_Consider my offer carefully, together. Think it over. You have many beautiful years yet to come, so you need not, and should not, decide immediately. Nor do I expect a response; I will know of the decision you make anyway. I merely wish you to know that I would grant you this wish, because I do love you and I want to see you as happy as you once had been._

_I know what is on your mind. It is not a ploy or a way of manipulating you, Lucifer. I gave the blessing to John and Penelope Decker with only good intentions in mind. Because can I really **have** any other kind of intentions?_

_With love,_

_Your Mother_

_P.S. But where is the catch, you ask? Well, that is quite simple. For Chloe to become immortal, you must let her die first._

* * *

1 From the _nineties_.[✿]

2 Or the second floor, as the Americans said, and it still confused the Hell out of him. Lots of things about Americans confused the Hell out of him. But after three years, one slowly started getting used to it and minding his vocabulary.[✿]

3 Because, let’s be honest. All three of them had strong demonic influences in their life. The fact they were the same two demons was only the cherry on top.[✿]

4 8 a.m., due to the eight-hour time difference between LA and England. None of them was particularly happy about it, because it was _Saturday_ , for Heaven’s sake. It was probably the reason they were all a bit late.[✿]

5 It was the same kind of ability that allowed Crowley to locate Aziraphale at moments of distress, such as the Bastille or that blessed church in 1941. It was something between intuition and distinguishing between different energies given off by different beings at any place on the atomic level. And he had attuned to Aziraphale’s pretty early on.[✿]

6 Again.[✿]


	26. epilogue, part two

**SOUTH DOWNS, 2028**

In just four months’ time, it will have been ten years since they moved out of London and into their seaside cottage. It was one of the best decisions they’ve ever made. It could never grow old.

Well, figuratively, anyway. The cottage, the garden, and even the people did age. But not Crowley and Aziraphale. They lived in their little immortal bubble day by day, watching the Earth continue to spin and the Sun continue to rise every day[1] without any disasters occurring for the most part.

Unless by “disasters” you meant Crowley’s students, undergraduate and postgraduate both, and their papers and theses. Because those _did_ happen quite frequently.

Because, yeah. Crowley had started to get more and more bored with threatening the garden into shape and causing mischief in Worthing or Brighton or Bognor Regis by the year, and in the end, Aziraphale had snapped and told her[2] to find a job. And she did. At King’s College in London.

Might as well put those six degrees acquired in the last few centuries to some use and enjoy human suffering at its highest as a bonus, she had said, and had argued that originally, demons were meant to spread forbidden knowledge Heaven wouldn’t allow humans to possess, so there you have it, she was being evil.

But everyone was on holidays now, and the only evil she could spread was on the beach.

Speaking of, ‘We should probably head out if we want to make it to Tadfield on time without me going 120, angel.’ She gave Aziraphale that crooked, playful smirk that always got her an indignant huff in response. Then she looked away to inspect her nails.

‘Just two more pages?’ Aziraphale asked wistfully.

‘You can continue reading in the car.’

‘Not if you drive like a maniac!’

‘I won’t _have to_ if we go now.’ She lowered her sunglasses to give him a pointed but amused glare.

‘All right, point taken.’ Aziraphale shut the book and looked anywhere but at the demon. She clicked her tongue and suppressed an actual smile. Really, apart from the sex, _nothing_ has changed.

Well, that and Aziraphale’s clothes. He still wore lots of beige, but at least in an aged hipster sort of way, rather than a Victorian literature professor sort of way. Only took 120 years or so.

Crowley grabbed her emerald snake print overalls and shimmied into them before Aziraphale could put the book down. Her swimwear was miraculously dry, but she left the hair[3] as it was. It was _hot_ outside, and she was beginning to think that it wasn’t a coincidence. Who invented global warming, again?

There were humans around, so she couldn’t snap their belongings away and had to do it the _boring_ way.

But they were on their way soon enough. They stopped at the cottage for a change of clothes and some home-made garden-fruit cake to bring to the party, and then it was just them and the open road. They almost had an hour.

True to her word, Crowley only drove around 70 to 80 mph, and Aziraphale continued reading his book: some romance novel or another. Crowley didn’t care. But it was, surprisingly, something contemporary if the cover was any giveaway. 

Then, about halfway down the way, Crowley abruptly came to a stop. Tyres screeched, and the book flew out of Aziraphale’s hands.

‘Crowley, what are you _doing_? Do you want to get us _discorporated_?’ he shouted at her, slightly pale-faced. He didn’t look at the road in front of them at all.

If he did, he would see the tree and the car smashed against it. It was a bend, and not exactly a busy road, but it must have happened only a minute ago if no one else noticed. Or they simply pretended not to notice and drove by. Humans were like that sometimes, she has learnt early on. Crueller than demons.

‘There’s been an accident,’ she said, voice small. ‘I should—we should—no, I—I should let it go, but I’m gonna go check. Maybe someone survived.’

It was unlikely. Half of the car was in shatters. There was smoke rising from the remains of the engine.

‘Oh. Goodness.’ Aziraphale swallowed. In the side-view mirror, Crowley could see two cars pass them by. They didn’t even slow down. ‘That’s… that’s _horrible_. I always say these cars are _dangerous_ , my dear.’

Gritting her teeth, Crowley got out and slammed the door. She sauntered to the car wreck—and she immediately heard crying. Someone did survive. A child.

A shiver ran down her body; a flood of memories washed over her like—well, like the Flood. And all the children she hated admitting to saving. But Aziraphale knew anyway.

She didn’t fight the urge to hiss and ran over to the car. In the back sat a girl, relatively unharmed and strapped in a child seat. She couldn’t be older than two. She was clutching at her arm and wailing. Crowley opened the door and grabbed the girl, healing her arm and her head.

‘Shh, it’s all right. You’re safe. It’s all right.’

It most definitely wasn’t.

She checked the front of the smashed car and found a man and a woman. She didn’t have to go any closer to see they weren’t so lucky. Really, it was like a—a bloody _miracle_ that the girl got out with just a scratch and a broken arm.

Crowley closed her eyes and tried to comfort the girl, as best as a demon _could_ actually comfort someone. When she opened them, she was staring Death in the eye.

‘Do something,’ was the first thing she said.

Azrael, wearing a cloak made of pure darkness and the foundations of the Universe over her cat jumper, shook her head. ‘There’s nothing I _can_ do, Crowley, it’s too late. I came to take their souls to the Great Beyond.’

Aziraphale, whose arrival she failed to notice, put a hand on Crowley’s elbow.

‘Does she…’ Crowley glanced at the girl in her arms. She was still sobbing and not saying anything. ‘Does she have anyone who can take care of her?’

She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t care whether this child would go into foster care or what. She was a demon. But then again, she has had quite the history, hasn’t she?

‘Her name is Robin,’ said Azrael. She had access to information about every single soul in the entire Universe. She took the father’s into her hands, a tiny glowing thing. Then the mother’s. ‘His entire family lives in Pakistan; they never followed him here. Her mother died twelve years ago, and her father vowed never to talk to her again if she married _him_.’

‘Yeah, racist granddad, not an option,’ Crowley shook her head. Her shirt was getting soaked. It was like Warlock all over, and honestly, _what_ was she thinking? She was being ridiculous. ‘Did she have siblings? The mother?’

‘No. The court will most likely give Robin to the grandfather and his new wife. You must let it go, Crowley. Most stories don’t have a happy ending. You of all beings know that.’

With that, Azrael disappeared. Crowley knew the archangel was right, but that didn’t stop her from getting a Very Very Bad Idea. It was an 11 on a scale of 1 to 10 where Bad Ideas were concerned.

‘Where’s Mummy?’ the girl—Robin—whimpered, looking up at her with big brown eyes. ‘I wan’ Mummy! An’ Daddy!’

‘They’re not here. They—’

‘Mummy and Daddy had to leave,’ said Aziraphale, with a bit of insecurity in his voice. ‘They are in a happy place now. And they want you to know they love you very much, but they couldn’t stay here anymore. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

‘No! I wan’ Mummy an’ Daddy!’

‘You don’t even know if they’re in Heaven, angel,’ Crowley said, giving him a side-eye he couldn’t possibly see behind her sunglasses. They were large and flashy, four years new. She put the child to sleep with a pat on her back.

‘And you don’t know they’re not!’ Aziraphale countered.

‘Fair point. But either way, they’re gone, and she’s two, she’s not going to get it!’ Crowley hissed, quiet enough not to wake the girl.

‘What will you say? That they died in a gnarly car accident and their bodies were almost ripped apart?’

‘No, because you just did,’ she said dryly. Her entire _face_ was radiating exasperation[4].

‘You can’t just keep her, Crowley! Not when she has family out there—’

‘A bloke who disowned his own daughter because she married someone who wasn’t white? He’s going to take _such great_ care of her.’

‘Crowley,’ Aziraphale sighed. He was thinking she was being irrational, and he was right as well, because so did she. Or the last sane braincell did, anyway.

‘Aziraphale,’ she mocked. ‘We raised a kid before, it’s not like it—it—I—you know what I mean.’

‘You’re not _seriously_ suggesting we just _kidnap_ her.’

‘No I’m not!’ she yelled, voice an octave higher than usual. She licked her lips. ‘Okay, maybe I’m—technically, yes, but it’s for—’

Aziraphale raised a somewhat sceptical and a tiny bit amused eyebrow. ‘The greater good?’

Crowley cringed. ‘Shut up.’

Aziraphale beamed.

‘I’d fake the paperwork. Obviously. And take her away from the system because I’m an evil demon. Raise her to be evil too.’

‘Yes, you are very evil, darling,’ Aziraphale said, still smiling, letting her know that he did not believe his words for a second but still tried to reassure her. It was his schtick.

‘I am,’ Crowley deadpanned. She scratched her Snake Tattoo, holding Robin in just one hand. And raised a conspiratorial eyebrow. ‘But I’m not saying I don’t need anyone to cancel my evil influence out?’

Aziraphale gave this a thought. He fixed his eyes on the distance, on the small excuse of a forest around them, and came to a conclusion: ‘I don’t think so.’

Crowley was Confused. ‘Angel?’

‘Let me, erm, let me rephrase.’ Aziraphale cleared his throat. He squeezed her hand. ‘You don’t need me to cancel out your evil influence because you have kindness enough.’

‘Shut up,’ she said again. She struggled to hide her embarrassment. And honestly, one more sentence like that and she’s going to have a stomach ache.

‘Well, you do too, Crowley. I know you don’t like to admit it, but it’s true. It’s one of the reasons I love you.’

She didn’t hide the flush on her cheeks _now_. The best thing she could do was to turn around. ‘We’re going back inside the car. Now.’

Aziraphale quickly followed, but he couldn’t catch up with her tall legs. ‘So you’re really…’

She briskly turned around, one hand on the door handle. ‘Yes. Shut up and deal with it.’

The Bentley found itself carrying a child seat in the back. Crowley strapped the sleeping girl in and went to sit in the driver’s seat. She sped off from the car wreck and ordered Siri to call 999. And she was Thinking. About everything God has ever let happen under the guise of Good. About all the children. About that car just crashing into a tree on a clear patch of road.

She looked up and frowned by the force of habit. And then she realised it. ‘Oh, you bloody _bastard_.’

Of course She would.

Crowley was angry. Really, really angry. She gripped the steering wheel hard enough to snap it in half if she weren’t imagining its continued existence as one piece.

But, ‘Fuck, you really have me here, don’t you?’ She groaned and turned to the backseat and back. The Bad Idea was rooted deep now; she wasn’t giving this up. She pointed a finger upwards. ‘We’re gonna have _words_ later.’

‘This isn’t the time to be dramatic, darling,’ said Aziraphale. ‘Mind the road.’

‘So I won’t end up like them? Pretty sure that won’t happen, angel. Not with—’ She gestured at the back.

She couldn’t leave her, though. Even if God— No. She was going to spoil her and be evil and make sure God doesn’t get Her way. There.

‘Well, I guess not,’ Aziraphale exhaled heavily and wriggled in his seat. ‘And just so you’d know, I’m cross with you. Very much. Taking a child! It’s a huge responsibility. Our whole _lives_ will be different. Have you thought of that, hmm?’

‘I’ll figure that out later,’ she mumbled.

‘What was that?’

‘I _said_ I’ll figure that out later.’ The plan about ended there, to be honest. Bad Idea. It was already backfiring. She was going to have to sleep on the sofa[5] for a year now. Oh well. ‘Right now, we have a party to get to.’

•

Agreeing to organise the party in her own garden had been a Bad Idea, Anathema realised when she watched a Hellhound chew on her roses, her own daughter play with the next Antichrist and a half-angel half-demon child in the vegetable bed, and a Prince of Hell drink her home-made punch straight from the bowl, cheered on by Mazikeen.

And Crowley and Aziraphale weren’t even there yet.

Though she had to admit, an Archangel teaching another Archangel how to prepare the perfect barbecue for their demon was quite the sight. Especially when the former had his sleeves rolled up and the latter made disgusted comments that were so unfunny they actually _were_ funny.

‘What are you staring at?’ asked the Prince in question, frowning. Anathema felt a blush colouring her cheeks; her brain clearly thought it was about Gabriel. But then Beelzebub glanced into the bowl. ‘Imagine raising a _child_ and simultaneously running _Hell_.’

Because, yes. That has happened three years ago. She was still trying to wrap her head around _how_ [6]. Or the fact that her daughter and the purple-eyed, black-haired Lilian were friends.

‘I don’t have to imagine,’ muttered Lucifer, and snatched the bowl from zir. He poured three scoops and some extra vodka into two glasses, handed one to Beelzebub, and _then_ downed his own. At least he had manners.

But then again, where _could_ they hold this little celebration? The air base?

She glanced at the Them, sitting on and around the little bench in the front, fully grown up and sipping at cider. Adam has just got his bachelor’s in Political Science and Comparative Literature and settled down with Trixie Decker[7] of all people, an hour’s drive from where _she_ had grown up. Really, Wensleydale was the only one who stayed in Tadfield and came by for tea sometimes. Brian was in Brighton now, working at a restaurant, and Pepper studied at LSE.

And then there was Warlock, the boy whom Crowley and Aziraphale had raised under the assumption _he_ had been the Antichrist. They had told her and Newt about that, ten years ago. And now he was here, laughing with the others as if he had always been.

‘Are you all right?’ Newt asked, stepping next to her.

‘Yeah,’ she smiled and squeezed his hand. ‘Just reminiscing. I should probably go check on the kids; I think Amenadiel will be done preparing dinner soon.’

She found Sophia, Adrian, and Lilian making holes in the ground with a stick and pretending they were mouse holes. Then an actual mouse ran out of one. Celestial kids and their imagination will ruin her carrots one day, she was sure of that. And hoped it wouldn’t go further.

Then she heard it: the Queen song. Finally.

‘Come on, kids. You can keep playing later, but the food is almost done now. Are you hungry?’ They nodded vigorously. Even Lilian, who didn’t technically need to eat. But being the child of the embodiment of Gluttony probably played its part there. ‘Okay. Go and wash your hands, and then you can see Aunt Crowley[8] and Uncle Aziraphale.’

When the kids ran into the kitchen, she returned to the front.

She didn’t find Crowley and Aziraphale alone. Though she was the first one to ask, ‘Who’s that?’

Aziraphale began, ‘That’s actually quite a long story…’

‘Well, try me,’ Anathema said, putting her hands on her hips.

‘So, erm, earlier today, there was a—well, _she_ was a nuisance, telling me to stop reading—’

‘Shh, angel,’ said Crowley, holding up a finger, and Anathema had to chuckle, because this was, somehow, _exactly_ like ten years ago. ‘This is Robin. Her parents died in a car accident on the B3018 near Binfield[9]. I’m—’

‘We,’ said Aziraphale, in a resigned, what-can-you-do-when-your-partner-is-a-stubborn-idiot kind of way.

‘ _We_ are taking care of her now.’

•

Lucifer raised his wineglass in a toast. Eighteen wines and four apple juices—because _duh_ —followed him. Robin sat in Crowley’s lap and didn’t know what was going on. She didn’t understand death. Crowley did her best to make her feel welcome, but she gathered it would take _months_ before she got used to seeing Aziraphale and her instead of her parents.

It was horrible if you looked at it that way. _Well done, Mother. Is this what you wanted, eh?_

‘To successfully ballsing things up as planned by dear old Mother and keeping this planet ten years past its expiration date!’ Lucifer said.

‘And hopefully indefinitely!’ shouted Maze.

Gabriel bore his purple gaze into Adrian, Lucifer’s son. Crowley felt a bit weird, realising that the King and she had even _more_ in common now. And weirder about _Gabriel_ and her former _boss_ [10]. The former of whom said, ‘Well, there _is_ another Antichrist right here, so maybe we’ll still get our war.’

‘Shut up, Gabriel,’ Beelzebub droned and gave him a Look. ‘We didn’t negotiate the Armistice Treaty just to fight in eight yearzz.’

He cocked his head in consideration and opted to stay silent for once. What Beelzebub said was right; Crowley had been there for good 31% of the meetings. But it was still yet to be decided whether it was indefinite or not.

And then there was the matter of Lucifer’s parenting skills. Thank Someone they could trust Chloe.

Crowley clicked her tongue. ‘So, same time same place in 2038?’

Anathema blinked blankly and ran her gaze over the garden in silent calculation. Before Crowley could comment on it, Aziraphale put his hand over hers with a sweet but not so innocent smile and said, ‘Let’s hope, darling. Let’s hope.’

She loved him so bloody much.

She never said it. Not with words. But oh, she _did_.

She told him with a candid smile and a kiss to his hand, this time.

Then they drank to history.

* * *

1 Which wasn’t always visible, because this was England.[✿]

2 She woke up like this one morning in 2023 and rolled with it. Shit happened. It was great.[✿]

3 She kept her hair long but always above the shoulders since the Apocawhoops. Long hair was nice and all, but it was also bloody annoying and impractical, as everyone who has ever had the chance to experience it would agree. The Author certainly does.[✿]

4 She had to compensate for the sunglasses, after all.[✿]

5 Which she did quite often anyway, between grading papers, binging TV series, and thinking up new ways of mischief applicable in the vicinity of King’s College that hopefully _wouldn’t_ catch her falling into her own trap. The only difference was that most of the time, Aziraphale was there too, being a pillow.[✿]

6 Accidentally, for the most part.[✿]

7 Whose mother has married his biological father. Yes, it was weird. But it was hardly the weirdest thing around here. And anyway, Adam didn’t see Lucifer as his father, not even after ten years. So as far as he was concerned, it didn’t count as being related, and he had told Anathema as much.[✿]

8 This, frankly, took some getting used to. Anathema was aware of Crowley’s fluid relationship with gender and seeing the demon in makeup and dresses was a completely normal Saturday, but that had been male-shaped Crowley in women’s clothes. This was female-shaped Crowley. And looking utterly, completely, _dazzling_. [✿]

9 Crowley remembered every single road on the way to London, Oxford, and Tadfield, no matter how many numbers it had. She took those roads almost every day; she could ride them blind.[✿]

10 The moment Crowley found out, she snickered and pointed out the conversation from ages ago: _who would wanna **try** to have an angel-demon baby? _‘Well, looks like it’s _you_ ,’ she said, laughing in Beelzebub’s face. Ze punched her. Three times. It was still worth it.[✿]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) the first part (the car accident and the child) was entirely based on a dream i had right before i wrote the outline of this fic. it was a really strong and emotional experience that stayed with me, so i had to include it. 
> 
> 2) PLEASE check out dykeiel's [aziraphale](https://pinterest.com/dykeiel/aziraphale-style/) and [crowley](https://pinterest.com/dykeiel/crowley-style/) outfit boards. they're what i take inspiration from!!!
> 
> 3) so this is it! the end! after four months to the _dot_ we got here and i can't thank you enough for all the support! i'm glad you made it here, and pls pls pls comment!!!!! i want to hear what you think :') 
> 
> 4) but i CAN thank you with more fics in the series! i currently have 17 ideas for one-shots written down and i'll start writing those at the beginning of december, i think, after i finish the group chat fic this came from in the first place. 
> 
> 5) but first i want to hear what YOU want to see from the 2019-2028 period or after, either from this bit or the lucifer one! so TELL ME!!! i'll gift the work to you!!!! <3
> 
> 6) and don't forget to subscribe to the (second) series so you wouldn't miss the updates when they're out :)

**Author's Note:**

> **comments and kudos sustain me!!!**
> 
> you can find me on tumblr, either at @crowleyaj or @darhknora
> 
> stories from this universe posted so far:  
> [moving to the south downs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20209264)  
> [az and crowley's first time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21737848)  
> [stonewall riots | pride 2019](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22230652)  
> [reconnecting with warlock](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22483228)  
> [trixie getting muffin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21958024/chapters/52399501)  
> [christmas with az and crowley](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21977974)  
> [establishing peace between the sides](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22106599)


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